


Bargaining with Beskar

by beskarberry



Series: Bargaining with Beskar [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Accidental Marriage, Alcohol, Armor Kink, Body Worship, Bounty Hunters, Breeding Kink, Canon-Typical Violence, Costume Kink, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Found Family, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Near Death Experiences, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Pack Dynamics, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Sex Pollen, Smut, Soft Din Djarin, Somnophilia, Top!Reader, Vaginal Fingering, tough!reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:09:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 100,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28672776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beskarberry/pseuds/beskarberry
Summary: You’re an ex bounty hunter just trying to escape the guilds radar long enough to spend a hefty reward, but a another bounty hunter has other plans for you. Can you convince him to let you go with only your charm, or will you find yourself in carbonite?
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, The Mandalorian x reader, The Mandalorian/Reader
Series: Bargaining with Beskar [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2101425
Comments: 62
Kudos: 188





	1. Bargaining with Beskar

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in a fury in the middle of the night so it’s messy and very very self indulgent. It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything so if I need to tag something tell me!
> 
> Chapter specific tags: canon-typical violence (bounty capture) smut: captured bounty sex, rough play (soft choke), fingering, pent up sex.

You’d had a good run.

It was a hard opportunity to pass up, the high profile bounty you had been charged to bring in had been able to contact their family shortly before you had captured them and the family offered to pay you handsomely for their return, easily triple what the guild was going to pay for this bail jumper. You’d taken the deal, but that meant you would be returning to the guild empty handed. Maybe if you laid low for a while they’d forget.

Of course that was a stupid thought, within weeks you had noticed rookie hunters on your tail. Word had gotten out that the bounty was walking free and a sloppy bounty hunter was a liability to the guild. After evading all of the green-horns for a time the more experienced hunters began tracking you, and your only choice with them was kill or be killed. They should have known you wouldn’t go down quietly.

Months passed before you saw another hunter, hoping against hope that they had given up. It wasn’t until you had gotten somewhat comfortable on Tatooine that the last one came.

You were far outside of Mos Eisly, the sandy city was barely a smudge on the horizon from where you were laying low doing repair work on a moisture extractor when he arrived. The machines engine was so loud in your ear you never heard him coming up over the dune, though through the scope of the pulse riffle he carried you wouldn’t have heard him anyway. You cranked a ratchet against a stubborn bolt,

_-crank…. crank…. c-CRZZT-!_

Electricity coursed through you, your first thought was that somehow you had made a connection with a loose wire and shocked yourself, but it was soon obvious that whatever had electrified you was strong enough to paralyze you, causing you to drop down onto the ground. Your fingers were still twitching when you heard bootsteps coming over the sand, but you were unable to stand, instead you worked to shake the electricity running through you.

“Th-thi-think I hit a whi-wh-wire there, I- I- I- I’ll get it fi- fixed.” you stuttered through clenched teeth, thinking it was the moisture farmer that had hired you coming to see if you were ok. The pulse was wearing off quickly, and you were able to jerk your head enough to make visual contact with the boot of the man approaching you, but these were not the boots of a farmer, they were the boots of a bounty hunter.

“Oh _fuck_ ” you tried to scramble to your feet, but you were still jarred from the pulse bolt that had hit you. The man above you wasn’t going to wait for you to get your footing, and kicked you over onto your back with one bandoliered boot, then kneeled into your gut with the other, knocking the wind out of you. Still twitching with electricity he snapped a pair of binders on your wrist before hauling you to your feet. You struggled in his grasp, a combination of convulsion and fear made you squirm like a womp rat in a trap, but his grasp was too strong. Suddenly there was cold metal pressed against your side, the barrel of a blaster digging into your ribs.

 _“Move it.”_ A man of little words but quick and to the point, the blaster barrel forced harder into your side to accentuate his point. He ripped your supply bag off of your shoulders and stuffed a leather clad hand into the belt of your canvas pants to fish out your hidden blaster. _Rude._ He shoved you toward the barren wasteland of the dune sea, unable to argue with the barrel digging into your ribs you both set off in a brisk pace across sands.

“Whose p- paying you?” You sputtered, still feeling the after effects of the pulse bolt. “I can pay you m- more. I made three ti- times the bounty the guild would pay and I would g- gladly split it with you.” Bargaining was your only option at the moment, arms and legs like jelly and unable to put up a good fight. The hunter said nothing, continuing to half march half drag you over the sands. “I bet half is still more than double what they’re paying you now, so whad’dya say? Wanna go splitsies?” Still nothing. You huffed, dragging your legs in the sand as best you could to slow him down, but a quick jab with the blaster barrel had you singing a different tune.

The pair of you marched on for a couple hours through the dunes towards a rocky outcropping, you continued making offers of credits and services but never once did he respond, choosing instead to shank you with the blaster or shove a hand into your back to remind you of your current position as his prisoner, without letting you get so much as a peek at your captor. Before long you both had made it to the rocks, and hidden behind them was the saddest looking star ship you had ever seen. It was pre-Imperial you were sure, standing dusty and dented in the fading double sunset. The fact that it had survived atmospheric reentry was a surprise in itself. _Like hell you were getting on that thing._ The bounty hunter shoved you forward towards the ugly ship, letting go of you just long enough to press a couple buttons on his vambrace to open the entry ramp. It was now or never.

Tired and dehydrated as you were from your trek across the dunes you knew this might be your only chance. You tucked in your bound wrists and made a run for it, kicking up sand in your escape. You were fast but he was faster.

 _-fwip!- **SNAP!**_ Something had caught your leg, yanking your feet out from under you and forcing you to do a faceplant in the rocky sand with a thud. You whipped around to find that he had shot you with some kind of grapple, hauling you back towards him by your ankle you were finally able to see who had caught you.

 _Is that the Mandalorian? From Karga’s cantina?_ Of all the hunters you had seen in your travels, Mandalorians were a breed all their own. The stoic hunters had frequented the ramshackle cantina on Navarro that you had visited a handful of times in your earlier days of hunting. You’d started to recognize one in particular that frequented the guild post often. His beskar helmet was shiny unpainted silver, but the last time you had seen him the rest of his armor was a dingy reddish brown. The thought was fleeting as you struggled to escape being dragged by the grapple but once he had you back in his grasp there was no denying it was the same man. He was covered almost head to toe in bullets and beskar, all the way up to the familiar shiny dome of it that covered his entire head. You were able to get an excellent view of its craftsmanship as he pulled you back up to your feet and marched you backwards into the old ship, the black shimmer of his visor never leaving your face. You stumbled over your own feet, fighting with the last bit of your strength for one last chance at escape.

“Mando! Remember me? From Kargas? On Navarro? Yeah _yeah_ heya buddy! Hey hunter to hunter you don’t actually _want_ to bring me in, I just know how much you _~looove~_ talking with that old cantina crook and the, uh, paper work! Yeah _paper work_ is suuuch a headache! I’ll just slip on out of here and we can both avoid a bad time, sound good?” Though you knew who he was you’d never spoken to this man in your life, and he of course wasn’t going to entertain your pleas, but it was the best you had. You were pushed backwards through the ship, past supply crates and what looked like the guts of a protocol droid towards what you could only guess was a carbonite chamber. He tossed your supply pack somewhere into the bowels of the ship without ever taking his gaze off you. Panic found a few last drops of adrenaline to pump through your veins as you neared your impending doom. Your silent captor backed you into the chamber, puffs of fog billowing out from behind you as the machine fired up. You had to get out, thrashing in his grasp and kicking against the walls of the chamber with every last bit of strength you had, but just like the armor he wore, he himself was unbreakable.

The bigger hunter was becoming fed up, frustrated with your squirming and never ending bargaining; he needed you to hold still long enough for him to hit the activation sequence so this hunt would be over. He let go of your bound wrists and pushed a leather clad hand up against your throat.

_“~Ahh~!”_

The noise that escaped your mouth made you both freeze, you just as shocked as he was. Your cheeks flushed with heat, embarrassed that in your current state of capture such a filthy noise had been coaxed from you. You squeezed your eyes shut, just waiting for it to be over and let the carbonite freeze you into oblivion, but its chill never came. You slowly opened one eye to glance at the armored man, but he looked like he was the one that had been frozen.

“What was _that?_ ” His voice was like gravel coming through the modulator of his helmet, and you flushed red again at his question, looking between the corners of his visor where you thought his eyes might be.

“Don’t worry about it, tin man.” you croaked, “Just hurry up and let’s get this over with.” You squeezed your eyes shut again, hoping that the darkness behind your eyelids was enough for you to vanish into. But you felt the hand leave your neck, coasting down to your bound wrists and tugging you out of the carbonite freezer. Unable to really argue with him you followed his pull on shaky legs, looking at the unreadable face for a sign of his intentions. Once you were free of the chamber he pushed you up against the nearby wall and held you in front of him, completely motionless.

You were confused, embarrassed, and now suddenly frustrated. _Was he really going to drag this out for stupid questions?_ He stood like a statue, the visor of his helmet felt like its gaze was trying to bore a hole through your skull. You stared at him, then to his hands, and last down to his blaster before looking back up to his visor. You watched as one leather gloved hand slowly made its way back up to your neck, giving it a firm squeeze like he had done before, but you wouldn’t fall for that trick a second time.

“Do it again.” came a rumbling voice from deep inside the beskar, but this time it was lower, more measured and full of something that made your heart do flip-flops in your chest. A sinful thought came to you, maybe you would be able to escape after all.

“You’re going to have to work for it, no more freebies” a sly smile crept over your face, earning a tilt of the helmet that made you feel like you were being inspected by a large bird. Your hands were still locked together, but you brought them both up anyway to wrap your fingers around the armored wrist that still leaned against your throat. Immediately his other hand went for the blaster and its barrel was trained on you in a heartbeat. “Easy…” you whispered showing both of your raised palms in a sign of peace. He kept the blaster trained on you as you gently grabbed his wrist with both hands, pulling on it to guide it down the front of your shirt. When his hand reached your breast, you pushed his palm into the supple mound, rewarding him with another breathy sigh.

Something like a huff whispered out though his modulator, so quiet you _almost_ didn’t hear it over the whirring of the ships innards, but you knew what you heard. The blaster in his other hand dipped away from you slowly before finding its spot back in its holster. Once it was safely away his free hand came up to grab at your other breast, earning him another encouraging sigh. Without letting go of the front of your shirt he carefully spun you away from the carbonite freezer and walked you backwards towards one of the supply crates that littered the hull until it bumped up against the back of your knees; prompting you to plop down on it. You leaned back, arching your bound arms over your head to give you some kind of leverage while he toyed with your breasts.

“Y’know they’re even more fun without the shirt.” you chided. The mandalorian took the hint and ghosted down to the hem of the tunic you had worn to blend in with the other farmers. It was thin and yielded easily as he pushed it up over your breasts, the flesh of your nipple puckering in the cool air of the ship. The shiny black of his visor never left your chest, only tilting side to side as he took both of them in. His leather gloves were soft and warm on your skin, gently pinching at your nipple and pulling on them just enough to cause your breast to bounce when he let go. He grabbed at the pillowy flesh, groping and rolling your sensitive buds between the knuckles of his pointer and middle fingers. All the while you made good on your word, making soft sighs to edge him on. Though you knew this was supposed to be your escape plan, you couldn’t help the way heated pooled in your belly, making you squeeze your thighs together and rock your hips. The armored man noticed the way you were squirming and let his hands wander down from your breasts to the hem of your canvas pants.

“Well? Don’t leave a girl waiting.” You rocked your hips up at his hands, trying to get him to take the hint. His expert hands that had wielded fierce weaponry so well now seemed to falter at what he was supposed to do next. His fingers were slow undoing the button and zipper as if he’d never taking someone else’s clothes off before, before pushing them down until they were around your knees. The sudden hit of cool air made you instantly aware of just how hot you had become under his groping. You used your knees and heels to push your pants all the way off, kicking your muckboots off with them and opening yourself up for him to get a good look at you.

His body was stiff, the visor of his helmet staring down at your heat, he was so still you could swear he was holding his breath. Suddenly his gaze made you feel vulnerable, as if he didn’t like your display. You moved to start closing your legs when a strong hand shot out to grab your knee and hold it in place while he continued to gawk at you. _He likes what he sees_ you realized, heat flushing to your face and your cunt. Again you rolled your hips from side to side, trying to entice him. _What’s he waiting for?_

 _“Please…”_ you gave him your best impression of a needy virgin and saw his shoulders immediately go even stiffer, the black visor snapping up to meet your eyes. “Take your gloves off.”

He cocked his helmet at you, and you were starting to get the hang of reading an unreadable face. “Just trust me, we’ll _both_ enjoy it more.” At that he tugged the glove off of one hand and tossed it somewhere behind him in the ship, exposing bronze skin of a, thankfully, human hand. He reached down between your legs at the hot core of your body, slowly moving his fingers down your slit. You sighed and arched into his touch, begging with your body for something more tangible. His other hand came up to grab your thigh and steady you, but the hand tracing your heat was shy and ghostlike, almost like he wasn’t touching you at all. _“Please Mando…”_ you begged again, hoping he would get the damn hint.

He pushed one finger experimentally into your folds, dragging the wetness that had accumulated there over your opening and making you hum for him. He moved from the bottom up until his calloused hand found the sensitive little nub you had been waiting for him to find. The roughness of his skin caused you to convulse and cry out, making him tear his hand away as if he’d been burned.

“It’s alright! Please touch me there.” Who is this guy? _What’s he never seen a pussy before?_ You thought to yourself, surprised that such a big scary man would be so jumpy. You arched your back and was rewarded with his hands back where they belonged. He pushed his thumb up against your aching clit, drawing lazy circles with it while another finger began pushing its way inside you. This time you let out a ragged and dirty moan to let him know he was doing a good job. He pulled his thumb away from your engorged nub to push a second finger up in you, making you whine. He found a spot in you quickly that was starting to make you shake again, but this time he knew not to foolishly let go. Your legs were quaking, head lolling to the side and making those sinful sighs that you could tell he liked. He was getting you close, your muscles squeezing around his rough fingers as he worked you to your climax. When his thumb found your clit again you came undone, your cunt fluttering around his fingers with your orgasm. He rode it out with you, pushing up against the coiled muscle to milk every ounce of pleasure from you that you could give on his hands alone. You could feel your own cum leaking down your thighs and around his hand, now realizing how pent up you actually were. _What a mess you would be._

You were nearly gasping but you knew you were far from spent. He pulled his hand from your dripping cunt and you watched him stare at the slick on his hands, sticking and unsticking his fingers just to watch the glimmering trails. _Cute_ , you mused to yourself, _he really might not have seen a pussy before._

“Alright, space cowboy, your turn.” You nodded towards the bulge that had made his baggy canvas pants grow tight, and he followed your gaze with what you guessed was surprise. “Let’s see what you’ve got in there, hmm?” With one last glance at the prize on his fingers, he took a moment to reach them up underneath the edge of his helmet, greedily getting a taste of you, before straightening up and undoing his own buttons. You were not prepared for the monster that flopped out of his pants, his cock full and engorged all the way to its hot red tip. Thick veins wound their way up its length and you swore you could see them pulse even from your vantage point on the crate. A soft drop of precum was already forming at the tip and you licked your lips involuntarily, feeling a fresh rush of heat pooling between your legs. _“I’m all yours.”_

The hunter grasped his aching cock and used his thumb to glide the precum up and down it’s length before he angled himself between your legs. You arched your hips to give him the best angle but he wanted to take his time. He dragged the head of his cock up and down the length of your slick opening, gathering the cum he had earned for himself. When he bumped up against your clit you moaned a breathy and sinful sound that made him shiver. He slid back down again and you pushed your hip towards him, forcing his tip to notch and he almost doubled over from the sensation, giving you a ragged groan in response.

“Did that feel good?” you asked, biting your lip with a devious sneer. “It’ll feel even better inside.” His gaze was fixed on where the two of you were connected, his hands like steel on your thighs. Another tilt of your hips was enough to turn the cogwheels of the metal man and he pushed his length into you with a shuddering gasp. Your own breath caught in your throat at the size of him breaking you open. He pulled himself back out achingly slow before thrusting into you again and earning himself another round of pleasured cries. It took him only a couple more thrusts to find his rhythm, bottoming out against your cervix with every thrust. Your head was cloudy and a fearsome heat was building in your belly, threatening to burst every time he pounded into you. You could hear him now, the once silent bounty hunter was panting ragged puffs of air and if it had been any cooler in the ship you swore you would have seen steam coming out of the helmets vents.

He slowed his feverish pounding just long enough to release one of your captured thighs and bring a thumb down to your clit, pushing against it in a way that was rougher than what you would have liked but nevertheless sent your head spiraling and forcing a pitiful mewl to escape your throat. It wasn’t long before another round of lightning crackled through your body and sent another orgasm crashing through you. The force of it made him choke and stuttered his perfect rhythm hard enough that he fell forward onto you. Your hands were still locked together but you wrapped them around his broad armored back as best you could, pulling him close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath coming out of the bottom of the helmet. He groaned and pushed his head into the crook of your neck before finding his filthy cadence again. He was close enough now that you could catch the scent of him, a mix of sweat and metal and gunpowder and something so primal it made your eyes flutter.

 _“Let me feel that again.”_ His ragged voice in your ear sent you spinning, and you could only answer with choked cries. The hand he had used to work you into a frenzy before now snaked it’s way up to your throat, giving it the exact gentle squeeze he had earlier that started this whole twisted tango. This time you gave him precisely what he was asking for, your tongue peeking ever so slightly past wet lips in between soft choked gasps. His pace quickened by your edging and his grasp tightened on your neck, drawing an ugly _-urk-_ noise that had you patting his back in protest. To your relief he respected your gesture and let go of your neck entirely. _Interesting…what a sweet, thoughtful murder machine he is_. He grabbed ahold of the abused crate that held you both up and ground his hips into you, fucking you so hard you swore it would break. It wasn’t long before your overstimulated cunt gave him exactly what he asked for, crying out into the silence of the hull and clamping down around his cock.

That was the last thing he needed to push him over the edge. A few more messy thrusts and a modulated roar accompanied his climax while he pumped you full of cum. He pushed himself as deep as he could go and you felt his cum start to pour out of you, mixing with your own as it trailed down from the intersection of your bodies and onto the cold metal of the ships floor. You were both panting, his weight on you making it almost hard to breathe. With great difficulty you pulled your bound arms over top of him and dropped them back behind your head so he could get up, but he just laid on top of you while his cock slowly softened and released itself from you, sending a fresh wave of cum flooding down your legs.

Carefully he pushed himself up, grunting and groaning the whole way. He stumbled to his feet, resting an arm on one of the crates next to you to steady himself and the other on your quaking knee. You glanced down at him and was bemused to see his glossy black visor staring down at your dripping cunt. His hands made their way back to you, gently pushing at your folds to watch the delicious mess he had made trickle from you. You couldn’t hear much over the blood pounding in your ears, but you could have sworn he said something with fondness in a language you didn’t know.

Releasing you from his grasp he walked up your side, dragging his ungloved hand over your disheveled body, devouring your naked form with his visor like a starving man watches a feast. It was now that you remembered why you had let him fuck you in the first place, but your body was limp and your legs shaky. He ran his hands up your chest and over your exposed breasts, then up your arms, grabbing the magnetic cuffs he had put there. _Great. Back to the carbonite chamber for me._

But instead your ears were graced with the metallic click of the unlocking mechanism and the restrictive cuffs clattered to the floor. You sat up immediately, rubbing at the bruises on your wrists and staring at your captor with mix of bliss and confusion.

“You’re letting me go?”

Mando was working to put his clothes back in order, the sound of belts and snaps shuffling into place echoed in the ships hull. “Last I heard you had fallen into a sarlacc pit on Tatooine. Can’t collect a bounty on the dead. Pity too, I’d heard you were such a great hunter.” The man who had been your captor was now leaning against the hull wall, his visor still locked on your mostly naked form. “You can go back to doing repairs on moisture farm equipment, or…” he tilted his helmet towards the back of the ship “You’re welcome to use the fresher.”

You blinked at his uncharacteristic generosity, though you supposed you didn’t actually know anything about him. Shifting off of the crate sent another gooey wave of cum dribbling down your legs and flushed your cheeks red. Maybe the fresher wasn’t a bad idea. The metallic man turned on his heel towards what you could only guess was the cockpit.

“Alright, but no peeking.” _Like I could stop him._ The thought made you laugh, it was his ship after all. You tossed what was left of your clothing onto the floor and made for the tiny alcove that passed as a bathroom and the even tinier shower; but the water was hot and that was enough. It had been so long since you had felt running water on your skin that you didn’t even hear the engines firing up and the rickety ship begin to take off. There was a bar of military grade soap on the ledge that you decided to help yourself to, it smelled surprisingly nice for something so plain. _It smells like he does._ You shook your head at the intrusive thought. It was just soap.

When you had finished your wash you stood in the fresher trying to squeegie water from your hair, now noticing the rumbling of the ship under your feet. _Well, goodbye Tatooine I guess._ The ugly dust ball had done you no favors, but this wasn’t exactly the way you had guessed you were getting off of it. _He had set out to capture me, and he succeeded. He’ll probably grow tired of me and throw me in the carbonite anyway, so one way or another I would have ended up on this ship._ You opened the shower door and saw something on the counter that hadn’t been there when you got in.

Two gray-brown towels were folded neatly on the fresher sink, as well as your clothing and something that looked like a black knit sweater. You hadn’t even heard the door to the fresher open, let alone him coming in to drop the items off.

“Sneaky Mando!” You hollered out into the darkness of the ship, though you guessed he probably couldn’t hear you from where he was at. The idea of him creeping in the bathroom to bring you a towel made you chuckle. “I told you not to peek!”

“I didn’t.” A modulated voice right in your ear made you jump backwards into the safety of the fresher.

“Fucksake man! Scare a girl to death why don’tcha?” You wrapped your towel tighter in indignation, surprised that your nudity would make you embarrassed after what had just happened between the two of you.

He sighed a long, exhausted sigh. “After you went rouge you took out three top tier bounty hunters and not once did you try to beg the guild to stop hunting you. There’s a pretty hefty price on your head, but I think your skills could be put to better use.” The Mandalorian cocked his head at you, “Think you can do that again?”

 _The audacity…_ You huffed and put your hands on your hips in a stance of mock fury. “So you kidnap me and now you’re going to put me to work? Great. Thanks pal. Really know how to take a girl out on a date, huh?”

He shrugged. “Do you want to go back to the carbonite freezer? I’m sure Karga would love to part with all those credits for your capture.”

No… No you did not want to go back to the freezer. You glared down at the floor with raised eyebrows, pretending like you were mulling over the idea like it was a job offer and not literally your only option.

“Alright… fine fine you talked me into it. Let’s go hunting, captain.” You snapped a damp hand out for him to shake, but he just shook his shiny metal dome in what you might have guessed was a laugh. He pushed himself away from the wall and climbed back up the ladder to the cockpit without a single word.

You watched as his boots disappeared into the ceiling and shook your head, wondering now if when you woke up this morning you had any idea that the day would take you on some wild bantha hunt though space with a well-hung mystery man. You tightened your towel and tucked back into the still steamy fresher to put on the clothes he had left you. The farming tunic was in a sad state, but the knit sweater looked snug and inviting. Pulling it over your damp hair your nose was flooded with that same delectable scent that you had gotten to indulge in earlier. _When he was pressed into you._

“Hoo boy…” You finished getting dressed, rubbing your hair with one of the towels Mr. Mystery had left for you. _I hope he’s got travel scrabble somewhere in this rust bucket, or you’re going to have to find some more… physical… activities to pass the time._ Your lips turned up in a mischievous grin at the idea.

_What a strange trip this will be._


	2. Silver and Steel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific tags: ALOT. Descriptions of violence (a little spicier than canon) blood mention, near death experiences, hurt/COMFORT, fluff, smut exhaustion sex, top!reader.

“Med pack… junk…. _junk…_.spotchka?….is that _all_ you’ve got?”

You were bent over a deep supply crate, your legs barely touching the ground while you dug through what you had hoped would be the food stock. There were several banged up tins of rations and a handful of miscellaneous junk, but nothing that looked like real food. You were clean and dry after your shower, but the energy that had been spent in this very supply room just an hour or so earlier had to be replenished. “Where’s the rest of it?”

The silence coming from the cockpit was expected, but still frustrating. With a huff you grabbed two food tins and made your way through the old ship towards the ladder. At the top though a small antechamber you found your new comrade seated in the pilot chair, fussing with the buttons on the console. On either side and slightly behind his chair were two other passenger seats, though the one on his left was missing a good deal of padding. The cockpit was poorly lit save for the lighted console and the dusty starlight overhead. Though you were in the air, you could tell you were still on Tatooine. _Hooray. Why are we still here?_ The great Dune Sea stretched out on all sides, sparsely dotted with sand people villages, but you couldn’t see any of the large space ports such as Mos Eisley or Mos Espa. In the ships’ darkness you couldn’t tell what the lumpy thing was in the other chair, probably blankets or laundry. You went to toss it off the seat when a pair of huge black orbs peeped out from the heap of fabric.

“ _The fuck is THAT_?!” You rocketed backwards, dropping the food tins in the process. The bug eyed creature made a soft cooing noise and lifted the rest of the blanket off itself, allowing two gigantic green ears to pop into view. It didn’t look like a threat, in fact it looked kinda cute, but you knew it could still be dangerous. A pair of stubby three-fingered hands made grabby motions at you, the little creature giggling at your bewildered face. “ Where’d you find this thing, is it some kind of pet?”

“He’s not a pet.” Finished fiddling with the console, Mando turned in his chair to readjust the blanket that had slumped off of the small beastie. It squealed happily and wiggled in its comfy cocoon before noticing the food tins that were still on the floor. He pointed the tiniest claw at them and chirped at you, demanding to be fed. “You’d better give him one of those before he gets mad.”

It took you a moment to process what he said before scooping one of the tins off the floor, peeling back the lid and placing the dish in the seat next to the little thing. He greedily scooped the mystery mash into his tiny toothy mouth, gibbering between bites. You picked the remaining tin off the floor and leaned against the door frame, watching it happily chow down.

“If it’s not a pet then what is it?”

“He’s my…” the Mandalorian paused, fishing for the right words to say, “…he is my child.”

That was not at all the answer you expected, if he had said emotional support gremlin you would have been less confused. The baby was still making a mess of his dinner, almost dropping his plate before Mando snatched it and set it carefully back in his lap. You had seen first hand that there was a human under all that metal plating, and your tired brain fizzled trying to make the connection between the two very different beings. Mando could tell by your puzzled face that he had some explaining to do.

He told you the tale of how he had been charged to bring the baby in as a high credit bounty, but after he used the reward to get new armor he went back and stole the child away from its captors. He talked about the Mandalorian concept of a ‘foundling’ and that he himself was one too. At some point you had popped your food tin open and started eating, though you were so captivated by his story that you couldn’t remember doing so. When he’d finished you set your empty dish on the busted chair and gently held your hand out for the child to grab with one mush covered paw, who babbled excitedly at his new friend.

Behind you his parental guardian was rigid, ready to take you out if you made one wrong move against his precious cargo. Though he had been the one to steal you away and forgo freezing you in carbonite he still didn’t exactly trust you, your reputation as a hunter-killer was what had driven your bounty so high. He knew you were disarmed, but what else could you be capable of? However, you weren’t paying mama-hen Mando any mind. Instead you let the baby play with your hand a bit before he returned to his food. You decided that the only place left to sit was on the floor. Squished into the tiny space between the passenger and pilot seats was cramped, but it gave you a fantastic view out the rounded transperisteel window into the vastness of the night sky.

“Your story sounds awful familiar.” You turned your attention to the metal clad man, watching him fidget with the steering controls. “You abandoned a guild reward for anothers wellbeing, like I did. Someone that didn’t deserve to be dragged back in cuffs. Is that why you picked up the puck on me? Some kind of kindred spirit something or other?”

“We’re nothing alike.” He was watching out the window, focused on flying the ship to unknown destinations, but he was bouncing the leg farthest away from you. _So when the cogwheels turn in your head, the machine moves somewhere else._ If you hadn’t experienced his human body first hand you could have easily convinced yourself he was a droid.

“Now that’s not true. You told the guild to get fucked because your moral compass was pointing the other way. I didn’t just let that quarry go y'know? It was more than that. There was… there was someone she had to get back to. And the New Republic was just gonna lock her ass up and for what? It wasn’t right.“ You remembered that Togruta woman, pointing a blaster at you with tears in her eyes and her belly swollen with a child that did not belong to the man she was being forced to marry. A few thousand credits weren’t worth another child being made an orphan, and you gave her your ship to escape in while you led hunters on a wild-bantha chase away from her. You knew it drove the guild insane but you wouldn’t have it any other way. A tiny green foot poked itself out from under the blankets by your head, bringing you out of your reverie. On reflex you tucked it back into the safety of his blankies.

Though you thankfully didn’t remember much of your early childhood, you knew you had come from Corellia. You didn’t know if you had parents or siblings, but there had been many other young street urchins in your alley behind the shipyard, and all you had then were each other. You never planned on having any kids yourself, but they were still something to be protected. At all costs, if necessary. “I’m guessing this little dude is happy with that decision.”

Mando had begun to take the ship closer to the ground, it was almost totally dark outside but you could see on the radar there was a large mountainous formation up ahead. Carefully, he landed the beat up craft on a sturdy outcropping of rocks, kicking up whirlwinds of dust and sand. Far out over the sand you could see a collection of lumpy looking ruins that were slowly succumbing to the march of the dunes. You guessed this was where your quarry was hiding out.

The baby was starting to get sleepy, his huge eyes disappearing slowly as the weight of his eyelids became too much. His little head rolled forward, threatening to toss him off his seat. Your big mean bounty hunter heart couldn’t take it, so you scrambled to your feet and scooped the baby up in your arms, sitting down in his seat to get him situated in your lap. He fussed and squirmed a bit, but you had learned a no-fail trick from the Corellian ship builders that would often help to sneak orphaned children onto their ships and off that skughole of a planet towards a better life. Many years ago they had done the same for you.

> _“Oh, I have sailed the midnight sea from Hoth to Arvala-5._

> _Seen the Cloudshape Falls of Alderaan, met rocks that were alive._

> _But soon I came to realize as world to world I roamed,_

> _That nowhere in the galaxy could really be my home.”_

The songs you knew were often sang by whole crews of starship sailors, loud enough to shake their durasteel walls, but you dropped your voice low and soft to turn the star-shanty into a lullaby. The baby was watching you with glittering eyes, he had stopped his wiggling and curled up tightly against your chest.

> _“So call the navigator, set the course and go!_

> _We’ve stars and planets to explore, my wild heart tells me so._

> _Beneath the metal decking I can hear the engine sigh_

> _And all I need is a mighty ship and a staaaa-aarr to guide her by”_

A tiny yawn betrayed his wondrous eyes, and he gave up and closed them shut, rubbing his little hands on his face. You lowered your voice to almost a whisper.

> _“I’ve seen a million beauties and I’ve known a million fears,_

> _And life is what I’ve found between the laughter and the tears._

> _Still I will sail the last frontier through worlds both tame and wild,_

> _And marvel at their strangeness with the wonder of a child”_

Soft snores were your only applause, the baby having drifted off mid stanza. You hummed a few more lines of the song to be sure he was asleep. The cockpit was as dark as the surrounding sky, but the glint of silver caught your attention. Starlight reflected off the beskar plates in a way that made the black of his visor seem darker than the heart of a collapsed star, and just as deadly. The Mandalorian was watching you intently, completely motionless _._

The precious moment with the baby had made you very forgetful of the dangerous situation you were actually in. You had been _captured,_ you were this man’s _prisoner_ and yet here you were all cozy in the chair with his adopted son in your lap. You glared back at him, matching his fierce gaze when the little green bundle moved to get more comfortable, one tiny hand catching claws in the top you were wearing; a tunic that did not belong to you.

“Here, you take him then.” Your voice was hushed so as not to wake the child, and you raised him up gently to try and unhook him from your shirt. Immediately there were two gloved hands coming to lift the baby off of your lap. He was a monolith of leather and metal, but the way he pulled his son in close was so gentle that all the ferocity of his profession dissipated like mist. Mando carefully tucked the blanket under the sleeping little baby and wrapped him up tight before slowly turning away from you and the flight deck to head down the ladder in total silence, leaving you alone in the dark.

You watched him go, the top of his shiny silver head disappearing into the floor. Without the sounds of life in the cockpit the quiet of the night weighed heavy on your ears. He still hadn’t told you why he had kept you out of the carbonite, all you had done was let him use you as his personal play-thing… and maybe murder off some of his bounty hunting competition, but that wasn’t much to go off of _._ You had done worse for much less. _Put your skills to better use, that’s what he had said._ Absently you toyed with the end of your sleeve, no, not _your_ sleeve. _His sleeve._

That was another thing, what reason did he have to show you hospitality when his first interaction with you had been so violent? Binding you and marching your ass through the desert after he had fucking shot you. Your escape plan had almost worked, _ha!_ All you would’ve had to do is tire him out and run but that had backfired entirely. The apex of your thighs still thrummed with sensation, warm and blissful. Though you’d had lovers in the past you usually didn’t still feel them so deeply afterwards. The smell of the fresher soap still clung to your body and clothes. Clutching at the collar of your sweater you pulled it to your face and breathed deep, letting the heady scent of it fill your lungs.

“Let’s go. We have work to do.” The modulated voice coming from the ladder startled you from your guilty indulgence and sprang you to your feet, but the source of the voice was already back down the ladder. You sheepishly followed suit.

“You plan on telling me what we’re up to exactly?” Down below the Mandalorian was loading himself with ammunition, each and every slot on his many bandoliers was packed to the brim with charges. His pulse rifle was slung over one shoulder, clanking up against a new piece of equipment you hadn’t seen before. Some kind of jet pack maybe.

“I have two bounties to catch on Tatooine. One of them conveniently fell into a sarlacc pit. The other one’s hiding out down there.” A bounty fob blinked red in his hand; quick flashes indicated that the target was close by. “If you help me with this, you’re off the hook. I’ll tell Karga you’re dead and the guild will stop sending hunters after you. But-” He turned to face you, he was holding your beat-up old back pack by one ratty leather strap. “If for one second I think you’ll turn against me, I’ll take the half credits for your corpse.”

“You’re one to talk!” You hissed, storming up to the gunslinger with the ferocity of a lothcat. “ _You_ kidnapped _me!_ I didn’t ask to be here.”

The man in question didn’t budge under your verbal assault. “Do we have a deal or not?”

He forced your backpack into your arms to accentuate his point. You ripped it from his grasp and stormed to the other side of the cabin. Everything was still inside; a pack of bacta patches, a few mementos, three busted tracking fobs and some blaster charges. Speaking of blaster-

“Where’s my gun, Mando?” Your question was answered when you turned back to face him. He was holding it by its barrel, extending the grip towards you. You met his visor with contempt, but took the old blaster from him carefully as not to cause a misfire. It would be nice to not be on the run from a guild you had pledged your loyal services to for so many years, that now wanted you delivered back to them in carbonite; and you knew that Karga would trust his favorite hunter. The life of a moisture farmer wasn’t what you dreamed of when you escaped Corellia. _Fuck that._ “Yeah, it’s a deal. One hunt and I’m gone.”

It was then you noticed the open wall next to you. The steel panel was slid open to reveal a vault packed corner to corner with more firepower than you had ever seen in one place. Your eyes roamed from blaster to rifle to flamethrower, noticing that not all of them were made for five fingered hands. This wasn’t just an armory, it was a trophy case.

If he didn’t want you to ogle his wares he should have closed the panel, but instead he joined you at the wall, picking up some extra plasma cartridges and a vibroblade with a curved handle, which he pushed into your hands. “Will that be enough?”

 _Either you trust me or you don’t, pick a side, tin can_. You didn’t answer him right away, opting to pull a chest holster and another couple of blasters down from the wall. You cinched the holsters tight and tucked a blaster in on either side, slung a disruptor over your back and stuffed the knife in your boot. Once you had everything in place you stuck your fists on your hips like a superhero with a confidant nod. “Yeah, that should be good.”

Mando was watching you with intensity, his visor going over each of your weapon choices. He tugged on your holsters’ cross straps to make sure they were secured. You rolled your eyes at him, “I know how to dress myself, _sir_.”

No answer. _Typical_. He stopped fussing with your straps and turned back to the wall, selecting a heavy multi-ammo bandolier. He stepped closer to you, wrapping both arms around your waist to fit the belt in place on your hips. You tried to convince yourself that it was the cool beskar of his chest plate pressed up against you that sent a shiver down your spine. The physical contact was over as quickly as it had been initiated, and then he was back in the vault fishing out the tiny silver explosives that fit neatly into the circular latches on either side of your belt, handing them to you without a word. Finished with his selection he pressed a few buttons on his vambrace, one to slide the armory shut and another to summon an egg-shaped hover crib to float to his side. Inside its shell the child was sound asleep, a heart-melting smile on his tiny little face. As adorable as he was, you furrowed your brow in confusion.

“Is he coming too?”

“Where I go, he goes.” Mando said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He strode back to the supply crate you had been digging through earlier and packed a handful of rations into a bag for the journey through the dunes. Cool desert air gusted into the stuffy cabin as the access ramp fell open, and the three of you headed out into the darkness of Tatooine.

* * *

Your dreams were hazy and feverish, shots of blaster fire flickered through the fog from unknown assailants. The smell of blood and blast plasma strong in your nose even while unconscious. You saw the sneering face of a Twi’lek twist in agony and purple blood painted his face before he winked out of existence, replaced in your mindscape with bloody hands. Your hands. Then there was cold beskar on your cheek and strong arms hauling you from the carnage. Harsh wind in your ears and the ground spiraling away beneath you. The howling wind so loud you couldn’t hear the questions being barked in your face. Pain, the smell of burning skin, then nothing. You felt objects moving frantically nearby, and something soft and green was pressing into your ribs. Your eyes, heavy as they were, fluttered open to see two huge black orbs staring up from your side where bright red blood was staining the sheets under you. _Is that … my blood?_

“Hey green bean…what’cha up to?” Your voice was hoarse and weak, scratching its way out reluctantly past chapped lips. Talking made your head pound, you reached up to cradle your aching skull when two leather tipped hands caught yours and held them steady.

“Easy… Don’t move too much. Please.” Your hands were gently set back down at your sides, shooting pain up your arms. A large black and silver body was hunched beside you, frantically sticking bacta patches to your skin.

“Mand…do? What…what happened?” Your voice was barely a whisper, so faint the recycled air of the cabin threatened to whisk it away.

“You got the bastard, but that fucking Twi’ managed to get a shot off in your gut point blank before he went down. You shouldn’t have survived that but you did.” _Is that a compliment?_ He was wrapping a long gauze bandage around your arm, fixing the bacta patches in place so they could do their thing. It hurt, but not as much as you thought it should have. Down by your side the child had rolled into you face first, passed out cold next to an emergency cauterizer. Mando nodded at his sleeping son, “And if it wasn’t for him, you’d be dead for sure.” 

_The baby? How is he involved with this?_ Thoughts echoed loudly in your skull, and you decided that thinky time was over. The little guy had the right idea, you should sleep now, embrace the comfort of the dark behind your eyes, let it swallow you whole.

“Hey hey _hey!_ Not yet. Stay with me, ok? You need to drink something. Here.” An armored hand slid under your head, urging you to sit up just enough to take a drink out of the metal canteen pressed against your lips. “You need to stay awake, just for a little while.” Cool water graced your dry mouth and dripped onto your chin. Embarrassed by your mess you tried to wipe the droplets away but once again your arms were halted in place. A rough piece of fabric dabbed at your face.

“I’m not a baby, Mando. I can take care of myself.” The creeping sting of blast-burn that still scalded your skin told you that might not be true. The bacta was just starting to seep into your bloodstream, but it would take some time to work its magic.

“I know that. I was with you down there in the fray. A rancor would have been less terrifying to face than you. But right now I need you to _hold still._ ”

 _Another compliment? Or was that sarcasm? You’re losing your edge, tin man._ You tried to roll your eyes but the effort made your head spin; you glanced around the cabin, trying to avoid meeting the visor that was pinning you to the cot. Strewn about the floor of the ship was what was left of your holsters and weapons, splattered with red and purple blood. You couldn’t be sure, but it looked like one belt had been blasted to smithereens, torn strips of leather the only indication it had been there at all. Farther away you saw a dark block in the carbonite freezer. The Twi’lek from your nightmare was frozen solid, though from his limp posture you guessed he had stopped moving long before he was put in the chamber. One of his long lekku had been cut clean off, and even in carbonite you could see the wound was fresh. Something long and curved stuck victoriously out of the center of his chest. Your vibroblade, lodged to the hilt in his sternum.

Mando was still kneeling on the floor by your side, and though you couldn’t see his face his hunched shoulders gave you the feeling that he was distraught. He still had your head resting in his palm, his thumb absently toying with your hair. Maybe it was the bacta running through your system that made you start to feel warm and gooey on the inside, but the sensation of his hand on your scalp felt… nice. Nice to be touched in a way that wasn’t just for survival. Though you had already felt his hands on your body this was something else entirely. Sincere. Maybe it was just the first time somebody near you wasn’t trying to kill or capture you. _You foolish girl, you’ve already been captured. Are you so lonely that a gentle touch makes you melt? Maybe it’s you that’s losing your edge._

“You should have left me for dead, cashed in on that half credit reward.”

“That is not The Way.” His mantra was rehearsed, spoken as easily as he drew breath, but you could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“Well… thank you for not letting me bleed out.” You could see the top of the baby’s green little noggin still curled up against your side, though the part of your ribs he was leaning on didn’t have a single mark. You looked for the blast wound that Mando was supposedly talking about, but aside from a handful of plasma burns your skin was smooth and healthy; the pool of dried blood under you was the only indication anything had been there at all. _What kind of mando magic is that? And what did he mean about the child?_ Your first thought was how disappointed you were there wouldn’t be a good scar. Your second was realizing your top was missing. Shreds of it were still on your shoulders, but the front had been ripped off completely to get to your vanished wounds. Mando seemed like he didn’t even care, he had been so focused on patching you up that the idea of modesty was thrown out the window, but you couldn’t help teasing him. “There’s not a scratch on me, Mando. You just wanted me topless, didn’t you?”

His thumb on your scalp froze, his visor going from your face to your chest with rapid snaps. Without letting your head drop he used his other hand to tear his cloak from his back and throw it over you and the sleeping baby. “Better?”

 _Party pooper._ “Yes, thank you.” _Why is he being so nice? He must have ulterior motives, right? Why keep me alive if not to cash in on that bounty?_ You decided to push his buttons some more. “This bed sucks. Is this why you’re so crotchety? Because you sleep on this Maker-forsaken thing? It’s making my back hurt.”

The cot you were on was spartan at best, more of a cloth covered bucket than a bed. It was recessed into the wall opposite of the armory, bits of machinery and droid parts hanging over the space above you. There wasn’t much of a gap between your head and the durasteel plating of the ship’s hull. Your teasing was rewarded with a long, tired sigh. The hand that cushioned your head moved down to your shoulders, pushing on you so that you sat up straight. You scooped the baby off of your side and into your arms, trying to ignore the dried blood from your wounds that stained the sheets before swaddling the sleeping bean in his father’s cloak. The metal man rose from the floor, letting go of you just long enough to remove his cross-belts and unlatch his chest plate, setting them on the floor with a dull _thunk._ He squished himself between the wall and your back, his dorsal plate scraping loudly without its cape. He scooched one armored leg around you until it was between your hip and the wall on your side, pulling you into his lap and turning his whole body into a pillow, letting your torso rest on his. He was used to the sharp metal bed frame, but that didn’t mean you should be subjected to it.

“Is this ok?”

You could only nod, your cheeks flushing red with a mix of emotions. It was more than ok, his formidable body was warm and comfortable. His arms wrapped around your waist, helping to support not only you but also his foundling. The spice of him was strong now with him on your back, worn leather and metal and that damn fresher soap that was making a fool out of you. Underneath his steady breathing the sound of something rhythmic caught your attention, it was quick and faint, but unmistakably the sound of his heartbeat. _His heart is racing. Listen to that engine purr._

Behind you a man with a name you may never know watched your chest slowly rise and fall with each breath, not with lust but something unfamiliar though not unwelcome. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, whether from the ordeal of keeping you alive or the fact that you were in his arms again he couldn’t be sure. He sighed, trying to convince himself to calm down, but the deep breath he took only flooded his senses with the essence of you, threatening to melt the beskar off his head with the heat rushing to his face. He couldn’t help the way his fingers traced over your skin, careful not to undo any of the bacta patches. He jumped slightly when your hands found his, but the weight of the child still in your arms made it difficult to reach your fingers. The glove you were touching was suddenly empty, and a bare hand snaked out from under the cloak that kept you modest. With the press of a button the child’s pram floated its way over to you from the supply crates. The baby’s adopted father carefully lifted the sleeping creature off your lap and into his hover crib, another button press on the vambrace and the shield door slid closed.

His hand returned to the safety of the cloak, pulling the other glove off before finding your fingers again. His skin was so warm you couldn’t help but imagine his hands somewhere more intimate. _Evil, evil bacta._.. Maybe you wouldn’t have to.

“I should thank you properly.” It was impossible to hide the tiredness of your voice, but he was close enough you only needed to whisper. His grasp tightened around you, your once plush pillow was now a rigid wall of muscle.

“You should go to sleep.” the sound of his baritone words so close to your ear made your skin prickle. _Too late for that._ Slowly you guided his hand down your belly until your tangled hands bumped into your belt line. A low growl rumbled out of the modulator. _“Cyar'ika_ … you need to rest.“

The alien term of endearment made you hum, but you ignored his words of warning and pushed his hand under the tough fabric till his fingertips found your heat, both of you gasping softly at first contact. His free hand fumbled with your button, and after some difficulty you undid it for him along with the zipper. With space to work with, his wrist moved freely, lazily rolling a calloused fingertip against your clit; remembering his lesson from the first time he experienced your body, his touch was light as a feather.

There wasn’t much you could do for him in the position you were in, so you leaned back against him and relaxed, letting him enjoy you at his own pace. The bottom of his helmet was pressed into the crook of your neck, and though it was sharp you could feel something warm and soft underneath it. _So there is a real man under there._ Scruffy stubble brushed at your skin and sent goosebumps down your chest. Under the beskar his eyes followed the prickling trail that lead under the tattered cloak you still wore to your breasts, watching the way the fabric pointed where your nipples grew hard for him. His other hand couldn’t resist finding its way to your pert peaks, rolling them between his fingers in that way he knew flushed you with heat. Soft gasps rewarded his ears as he worked at your breast and clit, rubbing them in tandem. Your hips rolled into one hand and your back arched into the other, urging him to help you build your climax. He obliged, adding a second finger to pinch your clit softly between strong digits until you fell apart around him.

The pressure that was building behind you and pressing into your spine told you that if you wanted more from him you would have to give him a better angle. You started to get up, but the hands on your sensitive spots held you in place.

“What about your injuries? I don’t want to hurt you.” _What injuries? There’s nothing left!_ His voice was filled with sincerity, a far cry from your first encounter. You didn’t answer him, instead you found each of his hands and squeezed them with a hum, asking him to trust that the bacta had set in and made you comfortable enough to move from your impromptu med bay. He slid his fingers out from your burning core, dragging the wetness from your cunt over your skin until his palms were on your back, helping to push you up off of him. The teeny tiny bed frame made it difficult to spin yourself around until you were facing him, and even more difficult to kick your pants off as you passed over top of him, but he never took his hands away from you to keep you steady until you were seated in his lap.

Straddling his waist you rolled your hips over where his cock was hidden from you, making him shudder under your legs. His arms glided from your knees to your hips, languidly making their way up your sides and past your breasts to the last remaining tatters of the black knit sweater he had allowed you to wear. Hooking a thumb under its ruined edges, he slid it up over your arms and cast it away into the darkness of the ship. His hands went right back to working at your breasts, massaging them like dough in time with your grinding hips. You took a moment to admire how he looked underneath you, his remaining armor glinting in the hazy ship light as his hands searched for every sensitive inch of your chest. You knew from legend that his helmet could never be removed in front of you, but you’d never heard anything about the rest of his clothes. Where his chest plate had been was a strappy flak jacket dotted with magnetic fasteners. Your hands went slowly to the first clasp, and the hands that were so indulged in you froze, his body stiff between your legs.

“Is _this_ ok?” The irony of you repeating his question from earlier back to him made your lips turn in a sly smile. 

_“Y-yes.”_ His voice was nearly imperceptible, and you realized that he was shaking. You looked to his visor, watching him nod in consent before you continued. He dropped his hands to your hips, pulling down on your thighs and rutting up into you while you busied yourself with the complicated under armor until it fell away at his sides, revealing a pair of suspenders and an identical black knit tunic as the one that had been shredded off of you. You didn’t have the energy to peel every article of clothing off of him, so this would have to do. Without his cloak bunched around his shoulders you were able to see the flesh of his throat, so warm and inviting that you wanted to sink your teeth into it.

You bent down to nibble at the exposed skin, and the filthy moan that rattled out of the helmet sent shivers down your spine. The taste of him was exquisite, better than you could have imagined under all that fabric and leather. The overwhelming cocktail of his scent straight from the source made you bold. You kissed your way around the edge of his helmet where the metal met his skin until you found his pulse point and made good on your desires. His body convulsed when you bit down, sucking at the tender skin until you left blooming marks that would be there for days.

 _“Cyar'ika… Please…_ “ There was that word again, you didn’t know what it meant but the way he breathed it like a prayer felt like warm honey in your belly. Releasing his tormented neck you ran your hands down his broad chest until your thumbs bumped the leather suspenders that lead you down to his waist line where you were able to tug the edge of his shirt free, giving you a delicious window of his tummy; well-muscled and dusted with dark brown hair. 

“What’s wrong, tin man? Nobody ever touch you like this before?” He was still shaking while you ran your hands under the edge of his shirt and through the soft treasure trail of fuzz from the top of his belt line to the bottom of his ribs. He couldn’t answer you, his breath caught in his throat at the sensation of your hands on his skin, but you were starting to put the pieces of his puzzle together. _No, probably not._

You decided not to torture him any longer. The fabric of his pants was nearly stretched to capacity and wet with your slick. You had to stretch one leg out onto the floor to get enough of a footing to lift yourself high enough off him that you could free him from the canvas prison. His cock nearly burst out of its confines, and your face flushed red at the sight of him standing proudly at attention, twitching in your hands with a flood of shimmering precum made just for you.

His chest was heaving, ragged breaths forcing their way out of his modulator before you’d even taken his length. You used your hips to notch him at your entrance and his grip on your thighs clenched like a steel trap. Slowly you lowered yourself onto him, letting him fill you until you were stretched wide. Your eyes met his visor, though from the way it was tilted you knew he was watching himself disappear into you. His arms wrapped tightly under your ass as he thrust into you hard enough that he lifted you off the cot, quickly scooting both your bodies down the bed until he was flat on his back. You tried to stay upright, but his pounding soon had your head spinning until you were falling forward into his chest, digging your arms around his shoulders in a way you were becoming familiar with. Your hands found their way to the back of his helmet to where his hair line started, sneaking a few fingers under the metal edge to tangle in his curls. The Mandalorian’s hands were on your waist, holding you in place while he rocketed up into you, filling the ships cabin with the sound of wet slaps. His thick cock hit different from this angle, grinding up against the sweet spot deep inside you with each rut until you started seeing stars behind your eyes. He could feel you building up around him and he quickened his pace until you were gasping his name.

 _“M-mando! I… I’m gonna….”_ Your muscles coiled with heat until you burst, your sweet cunt fluttering around his still pumping cock until he went cascading over the edge of ecstasy with you, his helmet vibrating with a guttural roar. His feverish body shook, giving you a few short thrusts to milk the cum from his cock until it spilled out from where he was lost inside you.

His shaky arms held onto you so tightly, as if you would blast away into space if he let go. The endorphins flooding his head made him want to pour his heart out and tell you everything, bare himself in body and soul for the first time in his life. He wanted to tell you how nice you had looked in his clothes, how the loose knit fabric draped over your breasts was a work of art; even more so when you were standing before him armed to the teeth in his hunting trophies. How seeing you slice that fucking Twi’lek to ribbons was more graceful than any ballet. The sight of the bloody hole that had been burned into your side had made his skin crawl. Mando wasn’t ready to explain the child’s healing powers, he barely understood them himself; but if it wasn’t for the baby he would have been burying your corpse instead of tending your wounds. Instead of experiencing your living body like he was now.

His heart fluttered at the thought of his foundling healing you with his baby sorcerer magic, his tiny green paws pushed on your side where the blood was spilling from your wound. The thought of you dying for his bounty made him sick, but pride flushed the sensation away when he thought back to that first day with you up in the flight deck. How when his baby boy was restless that you acted, not with malice but with tenderness and care. He’d never wanted to rip his helmet off faster in all his days than when you sang his son a lullaby, the sweet tune of it filtering through his sensory equipment, and he longed to hear it as it was meant to be. In that moment he had been entranced, but the fierce glare of his visor had made you feel threatened. He didn’t want that. He wanted to make you feel safe. The same way you had made his child feel, the same way you made him feel now. Like the galaxy itself couldn’t tear you from him.

But the ugly truth was that soon it would all end when you both went your separate ways. All the feelings he wanted to confess to you died in his mouth, leaving a bitter taste that brought him back to reality. You still straddled his waist, and though the blood had long since left his cock it still sat neatly in your heat, letting him feel your gentle heartbeat around him. Carefully he pulled himself free from the apex of your thighs and rolled you both sideways onto the unforgiving cot, letting gravity shuffle you down until you were nestled in the crook of his arm. He couldn’t help brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, meeting your half lidded eyes with his own behind the visor.

“I don’t think I can get to the fresher this time.” Your voice was barely a whisper, and the edges of sleep crept unbidden to your eyes; the traumatic activities of the day finally winning over your endurance. “You’re probably going to have to burn these sheets.”

Mando hummed with indifference, though for you he would burn all of Tatooine down if you asked. All the lovely thoughts that had danced through his mind came rolling through again, haloed in the warm light of afterglow. Only one made its way past his lips, sneaking out of the helmets’ modulator like a prayer.

“How does the song end?”

“Mmm?” You were so close to sleep, so cozy and full of cum that you knew would be a fun mess for morning-you to clean up. You wracked your brain trying to remember what the hell he was talking about. _The star-shanty?_ “Why, do you need a lullaby too?”

“N-no. Just curious. When you leave, my foundling might ask me about it.” _Liar._ The calloused hand gliding up and down your spine brought the original contract you made with him ringing through your skull. _One hunt and I’m gone._

“Leave? I’m not going anywhere until I see you tell Karga face to face that I’m rotting in a sarlacc pit. No take-backs. That old dog will probably dance when he hears he won’t have to part with his credits and I want to catch it on holo-corder.”

The rumbling sigh deep in his chest sounded more like an engine powering down than a mortal man, and it told you more than words ever could. The arm you had around his chest was met with strong fingers that intertwined with your own. _He doesn’t want me to go. Who_ are _you, Mandalorian?_

“Tell me anyway? Please?” His arms tightened like a fortress around you. His words were distant, echoing out from somewhere in dreamland instead of right by your ear. _Alright you big softie, if you’re going to beg me._ You sighed heavily against him, trying to recall the songs of your distant past. 

> _“The nights are long between the stars, and lonely too for me,_

> _I wonder how I might have fared with home and family._

> _But the bonds of friendship I have formed will last my lifetime through,_

> _Security is not for me, my dreams are all of you.”_

The same soft snores that had been your original encore with the baby now ghosted in your ear, muffled by the mysterious beskar helmet but still unmistakable. _Like father like son._

The weight of his arms around you was like nothing you had ever felt in your years on the run. You had traveled so far and met so many living beings but not once had you let another share your bed while you slept. _You could get used to this_. The thought was the last you had before sleep overtook you, your body slumping against his while you dreamed of silver and steel.


	3. Krayt's Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific tags: Content warnings: Canon typical violence, killing in self defense, headcanon angst, FLUFF, sensory deprivation, body worship, oral sex (f receiving).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are my headcanons regarding Mandalorian culture in terms of sex, I didn’t find much lore on it so whether it’s accurate or not idk but I like them and that’s all that matters! Enjoy~

You could have slept forever, even on that horrible little cot you were so comfortable that you could have been out for days, but the only one on it was you. You did’t know when Mando got up from the tiny space you both shared through the night, or how he managed to get out from your tangled bodies without waking you up. You opened your eyes to tiny green baby hands tugging at your fingers. 

“Hey booger, is it time for breakfast? Where’s your papa?” You started to sit up, but the horrible sticky mess underneath you made you reluctant to move, a mix of passion and pain from the day before. “ _Yikes._ I’m gonna run all his water out if I have to keep using the fresher. Come on, let’s get scrubbed up.” The baby gibbered excitedly at you, though you weren’t sure how much of what you said he actually understood. You scooped him into your arms without looking back at the sad little cot and all its stains. “You’re water proof, right?”

The ship’s engines were rumbling away, so you guessed tin man was up in the cockpit flying you towards your next bounty. _Or Nevarro._ You would have to find Mr. Mystery later, the grossness that was you had to be dealt with. Between you and the child your shower took forever, the two of you getting water and soap bubbles from top to bottom. You didn’t care. You had been on Tatooine for _months_ without having a real shower, being consigned to the sonic freshers that vibrated the sand off of the moisture farmer’s bodies; and this was the second real shower you’d gotten to have in twice as many days. You spent a good deal of time trying to get your chatty friend to hold still long enough to be dried off, the little fart squealing with joy every time you went for him with the towel.

An ordeal later you were both fresh and presentable, but your host was still nowhere to be seen, though the ugly sheets had thankfully disappeared from view. The ship was quiet now, without the engine running you knew you had to be back on the ground, and you could hear a distinct hum of activity coming through the walls. _Space port? He flew us into town?_ The thought was replaced immediately with a rich, savory smell coming through the air vents: _FOOD!_ Your gut grumbled loud enough to resonate through the cabin and earn you a confused look from the baby. When was the last time you really ate? You’d been living on ration packs for the last couple of days. That was going to change _right now._

“Ya hungry buddy? Me too! Maybe that’s where your dad is, hmm?” Grabbing your old backpack and hooking the baby under your arm you started punching buttons on the wall to get the door open, sending walls sliding and cabinets opening before you got one of the access ramps open. Bright double sunlight nearly blinded you, and on reflex you covered the baby’s giant googly eyes. It took a moment for your own to adjust to the radiant light of the Tatooine morning, and the smell of cooking food hit you like a ton of bricks, making your mouth water. As your eyes adjusted you were able to take in your surroundings: though it was bright outside you were parked low inside a maintenance bay, the walls of which soared high above you; littered with engine parts and humming with droid activity. Sound was the last input your hungry brain could process, but when it did you didn’t like what you heard. The sounds of an argument echoed around the hangar, high and shrill.

“I already _told you,_ you can’t park here! You’re bad for business!”

“I just need to park here long enough to get supplies.”

“Well you’re gonna have to pay up, Mando! I’m not running a charity here! You got credits for supplies you got credits for parking! Up front this time!”

_Oh no._

Of all the mechanics and docking hangars in Mos Eisley he had to pick _this one._ The fireball of a woman barely came up to your partner’s chest, but she made up for it with unbridled fury; and the giant cooked animal leg she was swinging around like a club between bites made her look even more formidable. She noticed you coming down the ramp and stopped grilling your comrade long enough to glare daggers through your skull.

“Oh _NO!_ No nope _nuh uh!_ You can turn right back around and get back on that ship, missy! I _knew_ it! I knew you were bad for business, Mando! What’re you doing running around with _her?_ I hope she’s your bounty because she’s _your problem!_ ”

 _“Peli.”_ Your words were cold as ice, but the squirming baby in your arms took all the malice out of your stance. He wiggled until you set him down, and he ran towards the mechanic with open arms.

“Baby! _You_ can stay but your dad’s gotta take the mean lady somewhere else! She cheats at sabacc!”

“You lost fair and square, Peli! Try playing a better hand next time!”

“Ladies _please!”_ Mando cut through your bickering, holding his arms up between the two of you like he was trying to corner a pair of wild blurgs. “If I let the child stay with you for the day, will you let me park the _Razor Crest_ here? Just for a couple hours?”

Peli bounced the child on her hip, offering him a bite of her breakfast. The baby squealed happily while he sank his little teeth into the mighty snack, though the size of it comically dwarfed his itty bitty hands. “I’ll tell you what, you let me _keep_ him and then maybe I’ll let you park here in a week.” Mando cocked his helmet at her with disdain and she huffed loudly, “Well if you put it that way, I _guess_ you can park here, but you gotta put five hundred credits down, and not a cent less!”

Mando reeled, stabbing his hands to his hips with indignation. “ _Five hund_ \- absolutely _not!_ What am I going to buy our-” You interrupted his tirade with a hand on his shoulder, waving a slew of credits in front of his eyes. Peli snatched them out of your hand, fanning them out like cards to count them.

“Who’d you cheat these outta?”

“Don’t worry about it.” You leaned casually against your metal man, eyeing Peli with a smug look on your face. “Let’s go, Mando. Bye baby green bean, have fun with Auntie Cheats-at-Sabacc!” You spun him around by the hand and dragged him towards the exit, ignoring the insults being slung at your back. “We are getting _breakfast_ and that’s final!”

The Mandalorian allowed you to pull him along a few feet before grinding his heels into the sand, shaking his head. “You have to stay here.”

Now it was your turn for sassy head tilts. “I just paid for your parking, buckethead, that makes _me_ in charge and I’m _hungry!_ I’ll buy you breakfast too if you want.” He didn’t budge, fixing you with that intense stare of his and grabbing you by the shoulders.

“You are _still being_ _hunted_. Mos Eisley isn’t safe for you.”

_Ah._

You knew you could look after yourself, and he himself had compared you to a ferocious rancor just yesterday. You groaned loudly, “Shit balls of hell. But _dad_ , I’m _huuunngry_!” The man bristled at your paternal harassment, sighing heavily and letting his helmeted head fall to the side like the world was ending. He glanced around the hangar exit, his shiny beskar snapping to each object of interest until he located a protocol droid corpse that was missing everything from the waist down. He strode over to it and held it down with one boot, yanking it by the head until it popped off. He began prying the droid’s vocorder apart at the mouth, pulling it wide until the droids face plate broke off with a _snap!_ Tossing the rest of the logic processing unit to the ground, he held the face plate up to the light, inspecting the clarity of its photo receptor casings. He bent back down to the junk pile and fished out a stray wire to thread through the ruined audio processors, then tossed the finished creation to you.

“Put that on.”

You turned the makeshift mask over in your hands to check for sharp edges before you pressed it to your face. The bug eyes on the front were dirty, but you could see well enough. Before you could clean them more thoroughly you felt the weight of fabric on your head, his cloak now worn as your own. The thought of how you must look made you giggle. “You make me take my clothes off, now you want me to put clothes on. It never ends with you, Mando. Next you’ll be forging me beskar. Now can we eat something, please?” Without a word the armored man turned on his heel and walked out the hangar exit. _I’ll take that as a yes._

Mos Eisley buzzed with life, people and animals and things you couldn’t explain made their way up and down the bustling streets. The smell of food led you to a vendor selling something that could have been a root vegetable, covered in herbs and spices and grilled to perfection. You couldn’t wait, all thoughts of self-preservation went out the window as you hauled ass to the stand, waving two fingers in the air. When you had both of your prizes in hand you stuffed the savory veggie under your mask, sighing contentedly at the taste of real honest-to-Maker food. “Hey tin man, I hope you like… whatever this-” You turned to offer your partner something to eat, but he had disappeared from the crowd. “Alright… more for me.”

Taking a newspaper from the vendor you wrapped the extra snack up tight and threw it in your pack for later, continuing to chow down on your own. You would find Mando eventually, and you had credits to spend. You had held onto your hush-money for months to avoid suspicion, but now it was burning a hole in your pocket. Wandering the streets of Mos Eisley from merchant to merchant you began accumulating a small hoard of supplies, ranging from bacta to hand tools, and _food_. Whatever you could get your hands on that would survive hyperspace when you inevitably left this fucking dirtball for good; though you still weren’t convinced that you wouldn’t be making that flight in carbonite. You picked out new clothes and underwear, a much-needed bedroll, and some soft bantha-wool blankets. Something further down the marketplace caught your eye, and you made your way to the fancier items that glittered in the double daylight. You didn’t wear jewelry yourself, a poor choice of attire for a hunter, but the way the trinkets caught the light still made you wistful. Your hidden eyes danced over the glittering treasures; jewels and geodes that had been found deep in the sands and polished to a radiant shine.

You spotted something opalescent at the end of one table and found a pair of krayt teeth, each about the size of your palm. They had been sanded to a smooth, flat finish and carved with intricate desert patterns. The backs of them had tiny fittings that could be sewn on as buttons, or pulled off to reveal magnets. Something about their shape seemed familiar, though you couldn’t imagine why in that moment. You purchased the unique pieces anyway, something to remind you that even the harshest of places could hold hidden beauty. After a while you had so much junk piled in your arms that you could barely see over it, and tin man was nowhere to be found. You spotted a courier droid and paid for it to deliver your treasures back to Hanger 3-5, though you kept the pricey teeth in your pockets. With your arms free you started looking for your missing comrade.

The streets were busy with people, you would have to get somewhere out of the way in order to scan the crowds. Your eyes went from shimmer to shimmer, looking for his reflective chrome dome. “Big jerk,” you mused to yourself “‘Mos Eisley’s not saaafe…’ If he’s so worried then where the hell is he? Bah!” The scratched-up photoreceptor casings of your mask made it a challenge to see through the crowd, and you took a moment to adjust the iris apertures so you wouldn’t have to keep squinting into the double sunshine when you felt a hand on your back. _Finally._ “Mando, where have you-”

“Mando? Whos’sis man-do? Nah sssweetheart, I think you got me confused wi’ sssomeone elssse.” The slithering voice in your ear made your blood run cold. _Not Mando!_ You rocketed your elbow backwards, connecting with the gut of the stranger on your back with an _-oof!_ The hand let go long enough for you to make a run for it, and you tore off down the streets of the busy spaceport, smashing into bystanders in your wake. You cast a quick look behind you to see a large reptilian body flying after you, brownish scales catching the reflection of the noonday suns. Though you had your blaster, the risk of hitting a civilian was too great, so running would have to do. You were thankful for the courier droid that had freed your hands just minutes before as you barreled down the busy streets.

Market stalls flew past you, your boots kicking up sand and dust. The mask on your face, as dirty as it was, kept the debris from your eyes as you raced through the sunburnt city. You had to lose this fucker and _fast._ You turned down an alley, left, right, another right, leaping over supply crates and low fences like a lothcat. You turned to see if you had lost your chaser, breath heaving and heart pounding. Behind you was clear, but you took your eyes off your path for just a second too long, and were taken by surprise when a heavy weight fell on you from above.

The Trandoshan had gone over the low sandstone roofs, chasing you easily through the alleyways of Mos Eisley while you were none the wiser. He pinned you under him quickly, ripping your blaster off your hip and pointing your own barrel in your face. “Tha’ss enough, princesss! Nice n’ quietlike now. You gonna make me a pretty penny you are.” The lizard’s words dripped with metaphorical venom, though you were sure by the look of those fangs that real venom was probably right behind. “Ahm gonna cart yer arse right back to th’ Guild’n I’ll become th’ most famous hunter in th’ galax - _urk!”_ With a sickening gag the hunter above you grew a shiny new fang in the back of his throat before falling down dead on top of you, a vibroblade protruding from back of his skull.

“Took you long enough!” You hollered at your chrome companion, who was stepping forward to kick the carcass off of you. “Where the fuck have you been? Getting your rifle polished?” He pulled you to your feet, handing you your blaster while readjusting the mask on your face. You swatted at his fussing hands, but when you looked at him you were shocked to see not one but _three_ blinking bounty fobs dangling from his belt. On the ground by the dead lizard was a fourth, flashing rapidly in the sand.

“I told you you weren’t safe! We need to leave _right_ _now.”_ You were barely able to grab the remaining bounty fob while you were being tugged away by your allied hunter. He had a death grip on your hand, pulling you along behind him towards what you hoped was the docking hangar. You would have to cross the main street to get there, and as the pair of you plowed across the dusty, busy road there came shouts from either side. _More hunters, fucking Guild!_ You didn’t have a single second to assess them before you were lead through an alley on the other side of the street. These were darker than the ones you had run through on the west side of town, and shady bodies moved quickly out of the way of your living locomotive.

At the end of a narrow alley you both burst through a door leading into an abandoned building. The darkness was almost worse than the blinding sunlight, you would need time for your eyes to adjust but the Mandalorian had enough sensory detection equipment that he ghosted through the ruinous building with ease; never once letting go of your hand as you tripped and stumbled through the dark. The sound of crashing and shouting was hot on your tail, the other hunters had followed you and were gaining fast. You saw a light rapidly approaching ahead, and the two of you burst out into the brilliant daylight to the worst possible place: a dead fucking end.

“There! Get down!” Mando pointed at a pile of rubble, probably big enough to hide behind, but that’s not how you handled business.

“Fuck you! I’m not going down without a fight!” You pulled your blaster out and aimed at the incoming assailants. He growled at you and stepped closer, putting his body in between you and the door. The reptilian hunters burst from the darkness of the warehouse, firing rapid shots of blaster charges that bounced off of Mando’s beskar. You fired over his protective arm, taking out the first one and tripping up the second, who fell over his cohorts limp body. Mando took shot after shot to the chest, reeling with each impact. His other arm cocked back and shot out, sending a wall of fire into the last of the Guild’s hired guns.

Both of you were panting, shaking and sweating from flying through Mos Eisley, but the sound of blaster fire would draw attention and you knew there was no time to waste. You stepped over the incinerated corpse, making sure the fob it carried was melted, the second body still squirmed in the dirt, and you weren’t going to let it get a second chance, firing your blaster through it’s scaly skull. You picked the remaining two fobs and stuffed them in your pockets, making a run for it back through the building with Mando right behind, the blaze of his flamethrower lighting your way.

You took a different door out of the building and were relieved to see the words ‘HANGAR 3-5′ painted in bright blue Basic straight ahead. You skittered through the entrance, rounding the corner and dropping down behind the edges of the hangar doorway. Mando did the same on the other side, both of you pointing your blasters back towards Mos Eisley’s dark heart. Bootsteps behind you made you snap around, and you nearly shot your mechanically inclined host.

“You kids have fun out there?” Peli stood over where you were hunched, and you lowered your blaster to the ground. At her feet your little buddy was holding onto her pant leg, making big puppy dog eyes at you. You looked over to Mando to make sure there weren’t any more coming, but he still held his blaster out ahead. After a few tense seconds he lowered it down until it was back in its holster, then pulled himself to his feet.

“We can’t stay any longer, we’re putting you in danger. Time to go, kiddo.” His charred beskar still shimmered when he bent down to pick up his adopted son, who chirped with delight. “Thank you for watching him.”

“ _He_ can stay any time! Oh and thanks for all the snacks you made that droid bring me!” Peli called after the three of you as your party quickly boarded the _Razor_ , making you turn around and stick your tongue out at her. She happily flipped you off and started closing the ground entrance to the bay, letting you board the ship uninterrupted. Fortunately, the courier droid’s delivery had made it to the ship, though you couldn’t help but notice a few of your most carefully picked snacks had been taken as collateral. _Fucking Peli._ As much as she infuriated you, there wasn’t another person on all of Tatooine that you would rather play sabacc with.

The old rust bucket rumbled to life, taking off into the midafternoon sky and pointed towards the stars. _Finally! Bye motherfucker._ The hazy atmosphere of the outer rim planet fell away below you until the light of the bright yellow world illuminated the _Crest_ ’s stern. The pre-Imperial scrapheap started howling with noise, and you were almost thrown to the deck when it blasted into the safety of hyper space.

Your heart was still racing and you struggled to catch your breath. Once you had yourself in order you started busying yourself with putting the supplies away, filling the food larder to capacity. The child was contentedly telling you about his day with his auntie in his cute baby gibberish, and you picked him up off the ground to give him a much needed hug, pushing your stolen identity onto the top of your head to give him kisses. You almost wanted to ignore the sound of heavy armored boots hitting the floor panel under the ladder, their wearer opting to jump down from the cockpit rather than climb. You could feel the fury coming off of him as he stalked over to where you were sorting your treasures.

“You could have been hurt! I knew it was a bad idea to let you go wandering around, even with your face covered. What if they’d caught you? I picked _three of them_ off before you even saw _one!”_

“I had it under control, Mando! I’m not some princess that needs you coming to her rescue at every sign of a struggle. And you don’t get to _let_ me do anything, you don’t own me!” The man under your scrutiny paced the cabin on stiff legs with his hands on his hips, helmet snapping with rage.

“I know you can handle yourself, but _I_ need to protect you.” He said with a huff, “And that lizard was… he had you pinned down, had his _filthy, scaly_ claws on you… _Nobody_ should touch you like that! What if.. what if he… I- I- didn’t like that he was…” Listening to the sound of the gears jamming in his head made you realize the ridiculous thing he was trying to say.

“Are you.. Mando are you _jealous?”_

 _“No!_ I _-_ I’m.. _Cyar’ika I… ”_

 _Oh no, you don’t get to be cute right now._ “I don’t know what that means, Mando! What is that, some kind of sexy little pet name you use on _all_ the girls you take underneath of you?”

“ _NO!_ I didn’t- I would nev- I’ve never had… There’s never been- _no!”_ Oh how you wished you could see his face, watching him flail trying to defend himself from your accusation, he was probably white as a sheet under all that armor.

“Never _what_ , Mandalorian?”

“ _I’ve never had anyone in this ship before!_ ” The Mandalorian’s confession lost steam halfway through as embarrassment and fear crept into his throat, threatening to choke him with his own secrets.

“Wait.. wait _wait._ Never? You’ve never had anyone in this ship or…” You started approaching him, analyzing his visor for hints of meaning. “Or you’ve never _had_ anyone at all?” The Mandalorian stopped his pacing, but his shoulders looked like they were carrying the weight of the galaxy. His silence told you everything, and the last piece of his puzzle fell into place. “Mando…was I your first?”

“Y-yes.” His visor tilted up to you, hands fidgeting at his sides. His voice was faint and sheepish, a stark contrast to the thunderstorm you were arguing with a moment ago. Your eyes were full of questions, all racing through your mind so quickly none of them made it to your mouth. The metal man answered them all for you in one singular motion, raising his fist to knock a couple times against his beskar helmet. _His creed._

“So, what, you guys aren’t allowed to have sex?”

He sighed his heavy, trademarked sigh and plopped down on the nearest supply crate with a defeated thud, cradling his head in his hands. “No it’s not that. Not… not exactly. In Mando’a the word we use is _me'dinuir._ It means ‘to give’, specifically to give yourself to another. And… when you give yourself away to someone-“ He turned the black gloss of his single eye up to you, “-you belong to them. _That_ is The Way.”

The weight of his words made your blood cold. He _was_ jealous, but not just because that other hunter had put his scaly hands on you. Everything about his attitude around you suddenly made sense, the way he had looked at you when you were presenting yourself to him that first day, why he never threw you in carbonite when he probably should have, and how he had stayed with you through the night after you nearly died hunting his bounty. His mysterious way of life decreed that giving his body to you meant that he had also given you his soul, and that made you just as important to protect as his foundling.

Mando reached out to pat the fuzzy green head of the baby you were still holding, who gibbered sleepily up at his armor plated papa. “I’m sorry to put that on you, and I’m sorry for how I acted. You’re not my bounty anymore, and I shouldn’t try to control you. I understand if you don’t want to continue with me to the next bounty. You can take whatever you want from the armory when we land next. I’m.. I’m so sorry.” The monolithic man looked so tiny now, sitting on the edge of the crate with his shoulders hunched. He reached his arms out to take his infant son from you, hugging him to his blast-burnt chest and smoothing his massive ears. “I didn’t get to thank you for washing him earlier, he smells really good.”

You desperately needed to know more, though the sight of him fawning over his sleepy son made your heart swell. “I kinda got the feeling that you were rusty when we met, but that was actually your _first time?_ And what does that mean ‘you belong to them’? How can you _belong_ to me? I don’t even know your name.”

"It means that I’m now sworn to protect the one that carries my soul. I’m not asking you to do the same, you’re not Mandalorian.”

His words made you feel sick, ashamed that you had taken something so sacred from him without a second thought, but how could you have known? He could have stopped at any time, you were the one in cuffs that day, not him. No, out of trillions and trillions of sentient beings in the galaxy he _chose_ to give himself to you, knowing full well what his heritage decreed. _Why you?_ Arms crossed, you dug deeper. “You’ve never seen another naked body than your own?”

He shook his head. “Just… holo-vids…”

You were going to have to ask him about those later. “ _Nothing?_ You’ve at least kissed someone before though, right?”

“Kissed?”

 _Maker fucking help you._ “Yeah you know, kissing? The thing you do with your… oh, right.” You reached up and tapped him twice on the beskar. “You need your face to do it.”

He cocked his helmet at you. “Can you show me?”

The innocence of his question made you melt. _Fuck you, tin can, you’re not supposed to be cute when you’re in trouble._ You reached your hand out, demanding he give you his, and shyly he obeyed. You pulled his hand to your lips, unsure of how much he could actually feel through his thick leather gloves. You pressed his hand to your lips and watched his whole body snap straight. “Kiss, like that.”

He was staring at his hand like he’d never seen it before, and after a moment he pulled your locked fingers to his head, tapping his forehead with the back of your hand. _“Kov’nynir,_ But we do it with our helmets. _” At this rate you’ll be speaking Mando’a in no time._ He still held your hand gently, running his thumb over your fingers. “I think I like your way better. Could… Could you do that again?”

 _So polite, maybe having him stuck with you wouldn’t be so bad._ You pulled his hand back to you, giving him another soft kiss on the side of his thumb, and you heard the sound of his breath catching in his modulator. Your lips pressed to each of his knuckles, and then you turned his wrist to kiss his palm. “How’s that?”

“That’s _amazing.”_

“You like that? Watch this.” Addressing the bantha in the room would have to wait. You tugged his glove off, revealing the warm bronze skin underneath and kissed him again. The hitched breaths coming out of his modulator were honey to your ears, and you turned his wrist over to kiss his bare palm again, hunting for more sweet sounds. His body was so stiff, so tightly wound you thought he might snap. “Are you ok? Do I need to stop?”

“I- I- want to… Can… Can I try?” You nodded, your heart jumping to your throat at the thought of him removing his helmet in front of you, but instead he gently reached up to the busted droid face you still wore on your head. With a twist of a knob the armatures inside of the eye casings coiled shut, and when he slid the mask down into place you were thrown into total darkness. “Can you see?” You shook your head. “Promise?”

You sighed, long and frustrated. “I promise, dark as a sarlacc’s backside.” You were met with only silence. Then, after what felt like an eternity you heard the sliding sound of metal as the child’s pram shield slid closed, then the shuffle of armor being removed, and lastly the dull _thunk_ of something heavy being set down on the crates. His hand found yours again, and he pressed his lips against your skin. They were hotter than you were expecting, and _soft_ , almost plush. You understood right away why he was so rigid when you were doing the same, it _was_ amazing. Gentle kisses made their way over the back of your hand and made heat flood through your veins. He moved slowly over each joint, following the same pattern you had shown him, then turned your hand over and kissed at your fingertips. Something fuzzy brushed along with his lips, and you imagined that he might have a mustache. The shivers that crept their way up from your captured hand knocked all the strangeness of your conversation out of your mind, but when he reached your wrist he stopped.

“Where else do you kiss at?” You nearly fainted at the sound of his unfiltered voice, a rich baritone that dripped with dark intentions and stole all the words from your mouth. You could only point with your other hand at the forearm attached to the hand he held. Again you felt his lips on your wrist, then slowly, inch by agonizing inch he made his way up your arm, each kiss slower than the last until your toes were curling in their boots. When he reached the edge of the tunic’s sleeve that hung at your elbow he paused again. “Where else?”

 _“Everywhere.”_ Your tormentor hummed at your consenting words and let go of your hand to run his palms down your clothed thighs. When he reached your knees he pulled on their joints, bidding you to bring your legs up over his lap. When you were seated on him he resumed his trek up your arm, kissing at the crease of your elbow and then upwards over your tunic until he reached your shoulder. When he got to your neck you almost buckled over, but his hands were at your back in an instant, wrapping heavily around your waist. Your own hands made their way to the nape of his neck, and your fingers found the edge of his hairline that you had felt before. To your delight you felt that the tousled curls went all the way up, and you tangled your fingers in them, exploring their softness while he explored you.

His journey led him up your neck to the base of your jaw where he nipped gently at the sensitive skin like you had done to him last night, sending a fresh wave of goosebumps from your head to your toes. When his nose bumped the edge of your mask you were suddenly aware of how silly you might look with your big bug eyes. “Can I take this thing off?” you asked in a whisper. “I won’t look.”

“I have a better Idea. Hold on tight.” You dug your hands into his shoulders and felt his arms wrap under your legs as he stood up, lifting you with such ease that you wondered if he felt your weight at all. His boots echoed through the cabin until he stopped at the other end. You hung on for dear life while he climbed the ladder with you still wrapped around his front. When you both reached the top you let yourself unwind from him and scooted on your butt over the floor, listening to the sound of him pulling himself all the way up. You remained seated as your host fussed around the flight deck, the noise of buttons pressing and switches being thrown the only input to your deprived senses.

You were only unattended for a moment, then his hands found your waist, fishing for the edge of your shirt. The tunic was pulled up and over your head, taking your mask with it, and you squeezed your eyes shut to protect his modesty; unsure of what his unconventional oath to you included in the fine print. Your diligence was rewarded with a kiss on your forehead, then down to kiss both of your closed eyes, and then lastly to your lips. The searing heat of his mouth on yours threatened to throw your eyes open, but when they fluttered all you saw was darkness. The transperisteel’s blast shielding had been closed, and the only light in the cockpit came from a handful of illuminated buttons on the dash.

He was lying over top of you on the metal floor, one arm wrapped under your neck for support. The cold decking under you was uncomfortable, but you couldn’t be bothered to care, letting yourself be consumed by his kisses and becoming drunk on the scent of leather and adrenaline. The soft fuzz of his facial hair tickled slightly as he pressed into your lips, and you couldn’t help but smile. Your hands went to his face, running your thumbs over his cheeks and feeling what you weren’t allowed to see. His face was scruffy but not unkempt, and the bristles went all the way from his jaw up to the bottom of the defined nose that bumped against your own. You felt the creases on the corners of his eyes, wishing you could see his smile lines and all the stories they would tell.

You kissed him back, letting your tongue glide over his plush lips and making him inhale sharply. You licked into him again, and this time you were met with his tongue as well, just the faintest touch of its tip. He hummed in your mouth, and the sound of him so close made your belly pool with heat and your kisses bolder, sending your tongue deeper into his mouth until he was almost vibrating with the sensation of you exploring something as forbidden as his human body. He mirrored you as best he could, rolling the smooth muscle over your lips and the edges of your teeth until you were both lost in each other’s taste. He pushed his forehead against yours, pulling his mouth away with frantic breaths that spread fire over your skin. “Everywhere?”

You pushed your lips against his again, giving him an ambitions ‘Mmhmm’ as an answer. His growl made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you realized where his goal was. He kissed and nipped his way down your throat, letting his tongue glide over your skin. He made his way to your breast, taking its tender tip between his teeth and making you gasp. He sucked at it gently, rolling his tongue around it while it grew harder for his efforts. The hand not under you groped at your free breast so it wouldn’t be ignored.

_“Beep!”_

An urgent chime echoed in the tiny space, the hyperdrive indicator was flashing its countdown warning: 10 minutes remain.

The Mandalorian’s growl on your breast made your blood turn to ice and your core flush with heat at the same time. He wanted to devour you, taste every single inch of your exposed skin, but time was not on your side; and he became a man on a mission to prove himself worthy of you. Bristles dragged over your skin as he slid down your belly until he hit the edge of your pants. They were yanked off so fast you briefly worried about the krayt teeth that were still in their pockets, but you didn’t have long to think before Mando was poised over the apex of your thighs, kissing at each leg to make his intentions known. _Those must be some good holo-vids you’re watching, tinman._ You let him push your legs apart with his chin, receiving a soft kiss on each one once they were far enough apart for him to stuff his face in between.

Your back arched, _hard_ , followed by the most ragged moan you‘d ever heard escape your throat. The grip on your thighs kept you in place as he lapped at your clit, sucking and teasing in an experimental way. His inexperience didn’t seem to matter, his hunger for you fueling his efforts and making you squirm in delight. Your hands sought desperately for something to grab onto to keep yourself grounded, finding his lovely curls to bury your fingers in deep. It was all you could do to hold on for dear life, tangling in his hair and struggling to breathe as he worked you into a frenzy.

The noises coming from below your waist were heavenly, wet and greedy in between his hums of contentment. It took you a while to realize they weren’t hums at all, but alien words of worship being prayed at your sinful altar; but the blood pounding in your ears and the gasps from your throat were too loud for you to hear his devotion.

 _“Beep beep!”_ Five minutes remain. _Fuck._

The Mandalorian’s efforts doubled, running his tongue almost too quickly in his attempt to eat you alive. You let your hips grind into his mouth, begging him to bring you your release, and it wasn’t long before he succeeded. Stars flashed behind your eyes as you came into his hot open mouth, but he refused to leave until he had drank his fill of you. Eventually he pulled his face away from your spent heat with agonizing slowness, as if he would rather drown than address the impending drop from hyperspace. He kissed at your shaky thighs, your soft belly, and each breast before pressing his lips into your panting mouth, pushing the taste of you onto your own tongue. His breath was ragged, and you could feel the sweat of his brow where it was pushed against your face. 

He lifted away from you, and the weight of the handmade mask was draped over your face, making you groan with the displeasure of your passion being cut short. However, once it was in place, it was almost immediately pushed under by strong fingers to lift its edge, and you were given one last kiss to swear his promise of return to you.

“Din. My name is Din.”


	4. Valkyrie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific tags: Canon-typical violence, SEX POLLEN + rough sex, oral sex (m receiving) and kink talk (not gonna list all of them but they’re all very common.) There’s another filk song reference in this one that I’ll link in the replies.
> 
> A/N: VERY IMPORTANT TAG! The bounty uses she/her pronouns so if girl on girl violence makes you squeamish please read ahead with caution! Also know that I >>do not<< use any gender-specific slurs (b*tch, c*nt, etc.)

Everything. Was. _Purple._

Purple! The grass, the sky, the _trees_ , if you could call them that. The pulsating, gelatinous towers that spiraled into the sky were definitely _alive,_ but you weren’t sure if ‘tree’ was a fitting word for them. Their branches were long and hanging, weighed down by some kind of berry or fruit that glowed with teal streaks. Your next bounty was on a habitable moon orbiting an enormous gas giant that took up the entire skyline. It was lush with vegetation and sparsely populated, a perfect hideout for an Ardennian.

The _Razor Crest_ was parked in a meadow of lavender grass, though once again you questioned your choice of words, watching the way the long wet leaves wiggled in the breeze. You breathed deep, letting the rich, humid air fill your lungs while your traveling companions followed behind you down the old ship’s ramp. Baby beans trotted right past you on stubby legs, picking things up off the ground that he probably shouldn’t be putting in his mouth, but was too sneaky for you to stop him from doing so. You heard the _Crest’s_ access door shut, and turned to see Mando eagerly trotting along to join you.

 _No, not ‘Mando’… Din._ Mr. Mystery finally had a name, though you were still conflicted about using it. The man had spilled so many secrets into you in such a short amount of time that the butterflies in your stomach were breeding many-legged worms. Squirming, creeping things that quickly metamorphosized back into their illustrious true selves, and you weren’t sure which part of their cycle was making you more nauseous. But they were _your_ secrets to keep, your heart wearing his name like a locket; safely hidden where nobody but you could see.

You had slid the heavy beskar bucket back up the ladder to him while he stayed in the dark of the cockpit, the knowledge of his facial features still kept by your hands alone. The pair of you had then stood close together at the armory, him with his helmet back where it belonged and you with your bright eyed mask protecting your crown. At the equipment cache he couldn’t stop _talking_ , pointing out and picking up a variety of weapons and traps that would work particularly well for this simian quarry. Everything had a story, and he told you all about the bounties he had pulled trophies off of, or things he had gotten as rewards for helping someone else. _He’s giddy._ You could only listen along as he prattled away, handing you grapple after snare until you had to start putting things back in the armory, just so you could have your hands free again.

 _Hands._ Every time he gave you another tool of the trade to add to your ever-growing inventory his hands brushed somewhere on you. Leather tipped fingers glancing quickly on your wrist, a lingering palm on your shoulder; each fleeting touch lasting just slightly longer than the last. He was struggling to keep his hands off of you, reluctant to give up the intimacy you had both been working at in the void-black darkness of the flight deck before atmospheric reentry tore you both apart. What other prayers of devotion could he pour into you, if you’d just had a little more time? _‘You belong to them, that is The Way’._ The oath he had made to you was followed coldly in your mind by another string of words, _‘I’m not asking you to do the same, you’re not Mandalorian’._

You couldn’t think about all the words that you still needed to unpack, it was hunting time. The six-limbed simian was wanted for, checks puck notes, _chemical warfare._ She had blasted her way to the Guild’s Most Wanted list by lobbing incendiary bombs and poison gas grenades through a meeting of outer rim parliament, and the price on her head might have been higher than yours. The bounty puck specifically stated she was to be taken alive. _Super._ The droid-face mask wasn’t going to be much protection for your lungs, but it might at least keep your eyes safe. You took time to pack extra bacta and some _quality_ rations, plus one of your new bantha-wool blankets. You woke up that morning on Tatooine, and the voice of your tortured circadian rhythm wondered if you would be sleeping rugged tonight somewhere on this heliotropic hellscape.

A bounty fob blinked lazily from the larger hunter’s belt, indicating that the quarry was on-world, but not close enough to catch. The three of you would have some walking to do. The child tried to make friends with every wiggly thing, running on his short little legs from fern to fern, hunting for treats. The little beastie’s adopted father chased him through the grass, trying, and failing, to keep him from getting into trouble. The sight of the mighty metal man being defeated so easily by a baby made you laugh, and the sound of your melodic giggles drew his attention.

“What are you laughing at?”

 _Oh no, I’ve been caught!_ “I’m laughing at you, rust bucket! The scariest person here isn’t either of us, it’s _him!_ ” You pointed to where the child was tearing through the reeds after some kind of amphibian, and started laughing harder when Mando cursed and flew after his impish son. The rowdy child had a frog-like creature hanging from his mouth that vanished the second his dad tried to pull it away.

“Stop eating things you find on the ground!” The baby only squealed at the scolding, earning himself a grumpy, papa-patented sigh. Mando picked up the potato-sack of a child and dumped him unceremoniously into the hover-crib that floated along behind. “You can get back out when you learn your lesson! I don’t want you to get sick.” The baby made huge, sad eyes up at his dad, but Mando turned away quickly to avoid their hypnotic powers. You were doing your best to hide your giggles, covering the part of your mask where your mouth was, as if that would help. The Mandalorian strode up to you with a swagger. “Oh, you think that’s funny, _cyar’ika_?”

“You don’t?” You caught your reflection in the black gloss of his visor as he sauntered up to you, and your bug-eyed doppelganger only made you laugh more. A wall of beskar stood in front of you, eyeing you with slow tilts of his helmet while you got it all out of your system. When your breaths returned to normal you looked down at your hands and found that they had made friends. You had reached out for him without even thinking, and you were a little embarrassed that they had gravitated to him so naturally. He squeezed your hands gently before letting them return to you, and you heard the songs of star-lost sailors whispering in the back of your mind. _The nights are long between the stars, and lonely, too, for me. I wonder how I might have fared with home and family._

“Night’s coming fast, we should keep moving.” Hunting mode reactivated, your companion started towards the undulating wilderness. He wasn’t wrong, within a few hours the massive planet that hung above you drifted out of view, replaced with a sea of glittering stars. The foliage around you glowed with otherworldly colors, teals and violets splattering their dense leaves and curling down their jelly trunks. Their loveliness made it easy to distract yourself from the task at hand, your eyes chasing the occasional yellow and red flashes that blinked from insects high in the branches. Ahead of you a large old tree had fallen over, and between its trunk and its upturned roots the spot was easily defensible.

Mando busied himself with clearing squishy sticks and leaves from the area to make a campsite while you looked for something to start a fire with. Nothing looked burnable, everything had a gooey, wet consistency, but some dead leaves under the log were dried out. They would have to do. You made them into a neat pile and pushed some rocks in a circle around them for safety, now you would just need a light.

“Hey, tinman, I need some heat!” He followed your pointing finger with his helmet and waltzed over to you, happy to be of assistance. He started up his wrist mounted flamethrower and used the pilot light to set the tinder ablaze. Not even fire could escape the overwhelming purpleness of the estranged moon as the blaze kicked up a bright indigo with a low heat. You got to work getting dinner around, pulling savory Tatooine treats out of your pack, pushing some of them towards the heat source so they would be warm. At the bottom of your bag you found some soft, squashed thing, and pulled the remains of breakfast out into the light. It was mashed, but it was still probably edible. “Mando, you never ate your breakfast.”

“What?” He looked at the sad excuse for a meal that you were offering him, eyeing it with curiosity. “You got me breakfast?”

“Yes? I told you that I would, though I guess it’s dinner now. Here.” You waved it at him so he would get the hint, and he took it carefully from you with timid hands.

“T-thank you. You’re very kind.”

“And don’t you forget it!” You whooped with overwhelming confidence, but the sweet words made you blush under your mask. Before he could turn and leave the safety of the fire to find a private eating area you reached for his hand again, pulling the armored paw to your forehead and knocking it softly against your mask. _Kov'nynir_. A wistful sigh escaped his modulator, and you knew the act of affection was well received. He bent himself down to where you sat at the fire and pressed his own forehead against yours, rumbling with contentment. The gentle sound made your heart swell, such a simple gesture that carried so much meaning. A bounty hunter’s life was fast and dangerous, why should finding companionship be any different?

You pushed your heads together just a little harder before he pulled himself away from you to go eat. You lifted your own dinner and the baby’s from the hearth, poking at it with your fingers to make sure it wasn’t too hot for Mr. Green Beans to eat. The child took it from you eagerly, content in his protective pram and making gross little noises while he ate. The food tin you had was much better than day one’s menu: bantha meat and Tusken hardtack with a side of more mystery mush. Your partner chose to take his meal elsewhere, fading into the darkness behind the fallen log where he could remove his helmet and eat in peace. _Someday he might make more sense to you._ The _clank!_ of an empty food tin hitting the ground brought your attention back to your campsite buddy, the baby having thrown his clean plate at you.

“What’s wrong, booger? You bored? Alright.” There was a tiny bit of energy still left in your bones, and what better way to spend it than entertaining your precious audience. You pulled yourself to your feet, taking a moment to dust the spores from your pants and pull your backpack on before launching into song.

> _“When we pulled into Naboo’s Port in need of R &R, _

> _The crew set out investigating every joint and bar._

> _We had high expectations of their hospitality,_

> _But found too late it wasn’t geared for spacers such as we!”_

> _“And we’re banned from Naboo, everyone!_

> _Banned from Naboo, just for having a little fun!_

> _We spent a jolly shore leave there for just three days or four,_

> _But Naboo doesn’t want us anymore!”_

Green baby hands tried their best to clap in time with your sailor song, accompanied by adorable cooing noises while he tried to sing along. Your rambunctiousness summoned Mando back over to the fire, and he sat down on a large rock next to his foundling, watching you through his visor as you danced around the fire with flailing limbs.

> _“Our Engineer would yield to none at putting down the brew;_

> _She outdrank seven space marines and a demolition crew!_

> _The Navigator didn’t win, but he out-drank almost all,_

> _And now they’ve got a shuttlecraft on the roof of City Hall!”_

You ran through the chorus again, taking a second to notice that tinman was tapping his foot to the beat along with you. You wondered briefly if they ever sang on Mandalore. You took a deep breath to continue-

_**“-KABOOM-!”** _

The fireside exploded just meters from your spinning dance, and you were hauled backwards to safety by your oathsworn protector,along with his foundling, and ushered towards the safety of the trees.

**“ _-BOOM! Ba-BOOM! KERPLOW-!”_**

Trees and plants exploded on either side of you as you ran through the luminous dark. _The Ardennian!_ Neither of you had been paying attention to the bounty fob, blinking fast and red under his cloak. Above you the sound of something swinging through the branches caught your ear, and you pulled your blaster and fired behind you.

“Bwahaha! Missed me missed me now you gotta kiss me, two-arms!” You couldn’t see her, but her taunts gave you a better idea of her position, firing several more shots towards their source. You knew you had to take her _alive,_ but that didn’t mean _intact._

 _“Go go go!”_ Mando was at your back, doing his best human shield impression while he hurried you away from the bombardment, the child’s bulky pram tucked uncomfortably under one arm. Your flight through the forest was haunted with vicious cackling and the sound of serene foliage being obliterated by the explosives that rained down around you, choking you with incendiary fumes.

A clearing materialized ahead, and the three of you rushed out from under the unmerciful trees. When you had gotten far enough from the tree line you both turned your eyes to the canopy.

“There!” Picking up her heat signature on his visor’s infrared sensors, he pointed to your target, his other arm still occupied with protecting the foundling. You grabbed the barrel of the pulse rife that was still slung over his shoulder, aimed, and fired. The ball of electricity arced from your little trio and collided with the trees, the sound of pained screams and crashes followed the wounded pyromaniac as she fell hard to the ground. _Bullseye._

”Stay here, Mando, I got this! Keep _him_ safe!” You stormed into the woods after the sounds of distress, snare at the ready to take the bounty alive. You were _angry,_ rage powering your stride as you chased after her like a Corellian tracking hound. Angry that your sweet moment had been ruined, angry that she’d put the foundling in danger, angry that your partner had been pulled from the comfort of the fire to fulfill his duties as guardian. You sprang over roots and fallen branches, catching the sight of movement where the Ardennian was making a run for it. 

“ _Oh no you don’t! Get back here!”_ Your words boiled with so much fury that they almost weren’t your own. Balls of fire exploded around you in a last ditch effort by the primate to kill you first. You dropped a knee into the loamy soil to steady your shot.

 _Woosh!_ The net sailed past her by mere inches, and you flew to your feet to begin the chase again.

“Ha! Grow some more arms and maybe you’ll have better aim!” Fire erupted around you again, but the flames that seared at your eyes came from _inside_ , burning with fuel siphoned from your heart. You took another shot.

 _Woosh!_ _Miss! FUCK_. You had one shot left on the snare-slinger, and you had to make it count. The trees were thinner here, _how long had you been running?_ The simian was struggling to get away now, the long slimy branches too far apart to swing through. Behind you the sound of thunderous armored boots told you that Mando was hot on your trail, and you were glad to have the back up even though you had _specifically_ told him to stay put. _Nobody listens in this crew._ Something green and gaseous poofed next to you, and the terms of the bounty puck came back to you clear as day: _chemical warfare._ The Ardennian was out of bombs and had switched to gas canisters, hurling a variety of brightly colored poisons at your face. _Third time’s the charm._

 _Woosh!_ The net flew true, tangling in the many limbs of the fleeing quarry and throwing her to the ground. _Gotcha!_ You bore down on her as brightly glowing vials sailed over your head, landing on something behind you with a _crash!_ You were on her in an instant, shoving a blaster in her face.

“You’re _done,_ chuckles! It’s _over!_ ” The fear in her eyes vanished as quickly as it had appeared when she glanced back behind you.

“Ha! I don’t think so, stinky. You’re gonna have yer hands too full with _that_ to deal with little old me.” You followed her gaze, and froze from the ice crystalizing in your veins. Mando stood a ways back, still as a statue. Bright neon pink goo slimed its way down his helmet and dripped onto his chest plate. You turned on the Ardennian again.

“ _What… did you… do?”_ You hissed between clenched teeth. “Did you _poison_ him?! Give me the antidote _right now_ or so _fucking help me_ I’ll tear every limb off your ugly little body!” You were seething, fear and fury stoking fire behind your eyes. The bounty only laughed harder.

“ _Antidote?_ There’s only one antidote for that one, sugar, and I sure hope you _like_ him enough to give it to him! Bwahaha ha! Good luck!” She was howling with laughter in your grasp, and the sound of her mirth was like nails on chalkboard to your ears. You practically threw her to the ground, running back to your incapacitated partner. He hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Mando! Hey hey can you hear me? Tell me what’s wrong!” The glowing pink slime was still on his helmet, and you hunted for something to wipe it off with. The closest thing was his cloak, so you reached for it and went to clean the pretty pink sludge from his helmet when an armored claw shot up and caught your wrist. The action startled you, but you were happy to see him still able to move. “Mando? You ok?” Slowly, with almost robotic precision, he turned his gaze to you.

“ _Cyar…’ika….?”_ His words were long and labored, the strain of them sending a chill through your bones.

“Yes! It’s me, Mando. I’m _right here_ , I’m gonna get you taken care of. I- I’ll find some bacta or-” Your words were cut off by another wicked claw on your shoulder.

“ _So… Beautiful…”_ The lustful words made the gears in your head grind to a halt. _Really? Right now?_

“Ok _great_ , glad to see you’re _fine_ , now can we get back to hunt-” He cut you off with a hand at your throat.

“Beautiful _.. and mouthy._ So… fucking… _mouthy.”_ A leather tipped hand snaked up your neck to your lips, grabbing at your jaw and pushing a thumb in past your teeth. You tried to spit him out but his other hand latched on to the back of your skull. “I’m going to put that mouth to good use, _mesh’la.”_ Your mask was tossed to the ground, and the ‘good luck’ the Ardennian had wished you now made sense. Whatever was oozing down the front of his helmet was driving him into an uncontrolled sexual frenzy, and you were the sole outlet for all his desires.

“ _Mando! -_ Blech-! _Man- Din!”_ He stopped trying to get down your throat at the sound of his own name, hearing it for the first time from your lips. “ _Din!_ We don’t have time for this right now! Get a grip!” Oh, but he already had a grip, and it was tightening on your scalp.

“ _That’s_ _right_ , sweetheart, _say my name.”_ The command dripped from his modulator the same way the poison dripped down his face, and he started walking you backwards by the hair until you bumped against a squishy tree. The change of emotion from rage to fear to confusion made your head spin, and the new contending feeling of heat building in your guts was making itself known.

“Knock it off! _Fucking hell_ , she’s going to get away if we don’t _do_ something _right now!_ ”

“Let her. _You’re_ the only one I want.” The weight of his arms on your neck and shoulders became too much, and the man who you had shared a such a sweet moment with not too long ago was now forcing you to your knees. You dropped to a kneel, and your face was hard pressed up against the solid bulge that was trying to rip its way out of his pants. He took only a second to free himself, pushing his throbbing cock against your teeth. _“Open wide.”_

You wished you were meeting with mini-mando under better circumstances, but if getting him off would get you back to the hunt, you were happy to help. The taste of him on your tongue sent electricity through your body, spooling up fresh heat between your own legs. Above you Mando was making deep, guttural groans as you took his cock all the way to the back of your throat, wrapping a fist around where you couldn’t reach without gagging. You glanced around his leg to where you could see the hover-crib, floating a good distance away with the shield closed tight. _Good, he doesn’t need to see this._ A swift thrust brought your attention back to where it was demanded.

“That’s a _good girl_ , take it _all in._ Let me make a mess of that pretty little mouth of yours.” He had a death grip on the back of your hair and the side of your jaw, pushing up to keep you open enough to take his length. Inside you were swirling your tongue around the tip every time it slid past, making sultry praises flood from his modulator. Most of the words were garbled, raunchy and alien, probably Mando’a. Spit leaked from the sides of your mouth, making good on his word to make a mess of you. The claws in your hair pulled tight, forcing your nose into the tuft of soft hair at his base so he could pump your throat full of cum without you escaping. “ _Ahh~!_ That’s it, _mesh’la,_ drink it _all down_.”

The hot spunk made you choke and gag, tears rushing to your eyes, but you still swallowed as best you could. When he finally let you pull away you gasped for air, coughing on the ground at his feet.

“There! *cough!* is that… - _blech_ -, better? Can you hunt now? Are you done?” The potionmaster was probably long gone, you couldn’t hear her fucking cackling anymore.

“ _Cyar’ika_ , we’re not _done_ until I _say_ we’re done.” The spear at your cheek was still hard as beskar, ready for round two. The armored man yanked you to your feet, shoving you face first towards the nearest tree. The tree’s flesh was soft and squishy, a fact you would be grateful for soon enough. Your hips were pulled backwards, and a buzzing sound told you he had pulled a vibroblade from his belt, stabbing under your pants’ edge and pulling down the crack of your ass until your clothes were cut away; leaving just the legs and your boots to protect you. The cold air hitting your cunt gave away your arousal, and he zoned in on it like a falcon, pressing still-gloved fingers to your wet slit. The roughness of the leather invading you made you cry out and your knees buckle, squirming under the intrusion of one finger, then two; pumping in and out of you to stoke your flame.

“You’re so _pretty_. So fucking _pretty,_ and _strong._ I’m gonna lose myself in you, fierce little thing, and I _never_ want to be found.” His hands ripped away from your swollen cunt, and the head of his cock was pressed to its lips. Both of you made delicious, filthy noises as he buried himself to the hilt, the slick of his own cum making a wonderful lube. “ _Fuuuuuck,_ you’re _hot_ inside, _lovely_ girl. My cock was made _just for you._ ” He barely made it a few inches out of you before he was slamming back into you again. The force of him behind you smashed you face into the soft, forgiving tree, though you wished you could find somewhere for your hands to grab hold. He fucked you like a man possessed, and you were sure there would be bruises on your hips and thighs when he was finished.

His mouth ran like surging lava. “ _Fucking.. Maker…_ beautiful girl, beautiful _hunter!_ Hunter- _killer!_ I knew you would be a _challenge_ to hunt, but I _never_ thought you would be the one to capture _me!_ You’re a work of _art_ on the killing field! _Mmph!_ You are _mine_ and I’m going to fill your belly with my warriors ‘til you’re fit to _burst_. They’ll be _so_ _ferocious!_ Born with daggers in their _teeth.”_ Vulgar words between thrusts made your entire body hot with a mix of embarrassment and lust. You might never know if the neon goo had given him the desire to breed you, or if he adored you so much that he wanted more of you to care for, but you did know your contraceptive implant would be having none of it either way. Still, his damning words flowed. “Nobody will _ever_ put their hands on you _again_ but _me._ I’ll give you _everything_ you desire, _cyar’ika,_ anything you ask for will be _yours_. I’ll bring the _stars_ down from the _sky_ if you ask me to! _I- I’ll- I’m gonna…”_

The Mandalorian stilled behind you, twitching as his cock spilled into you and ran hot down your thighs. His breaths were gasping, broken and desperate for air. His fingers digging into the soft skin on your hips would leave their mark for sure, and though he’d done a fantastic job of scrambling your insides you still felt warmth in your chest. Even in his poisoned, delirious state of mind, all of his thoughts were of you alone. The grip on your ass loosened, and the sound of a heavy _thud_ hitting the ground told you he had fallen down into the soft purple grass. You struggled to peel your face from the jelly tree, standing like a newborn fawn on shaky legs. The bright pink streak on his helmet had lost all its glow, and your human rust-bucket was slumped over on his side, still as the grave. _Not again, fucksake._ You clambered over to him, digging under his cloak with your hands until you found his pulse. _Still alive._

“Alright Mando, fucking _stay here_ this time like I told you to.” You glanced around the meadow, but the Ardennian was nowhere to be found. _Fuck! All that work for nothing._ You groaned, looking down at what was left of your pants. You checked all the pockets, finding your lucky krayt teeth and a bacta patch before kicking the ruined fabric off over your boots. You dropped down to the spent form of your comrade, tilting his helmet up and slapping the bacta patch on one of the hickies you had left there a few days ago. You took a moment to stuff the teeth into one of his many pouches since you no longer had pockets of your own. With your ass in the wind you made your way over to the floating pram to check on your tiny pal. “Hey beans, you doing ok? Your dad and I were just having a little-” you spun the cradle around. _Empty._

 _“No!_ Fuck! _Fuck fuck FUCK!”_ The bounty had made off with Din’s infant son, your little buddy! You couldn’t stop the fear that dried your throat and brought tears to your eyes. _Get a hold of yourself! Find him! **NOW!** _Familiar rage welled up behind your eyes, and you raced back over to your unconscious guardian, still laying in the dirt and making it extra difficult to untangle the pulse rifle still slung over his back. Your hunting instincts were on high alert, and the sound of shouting caught your ears. “I’m gonna get him back, Din! Just… just fucking _stay here!”_

You tore off after the noise, every horrible scenario running through your head at once. _Would she steal him? Would she hurt him? Would she kill him?_ Rage flared hot in your chest and threatened to burn you alive, your feverish skin icy with sweat. Wet leaves slapped past your bare knees so fast that their thin edges left vicious paper cuts. You didn’t care, nothing else mattered but the foundling. The sound of shouting grew louder, and you thundered though the trees to another clearing by a narrow wine-dark stream. 

“Help! This thing’s got me! Get me down, please! Get it away from me!” The simian terror was hanging in the air ahead of you. No, not hanging, _floating._ She was thrashing her arms, but all that did was slowly spin her in place. The sight was magical, but more important was the safety of child. On the ground near her, he stood with one fat little paw in the air, pointing at his abductor and concentrating with all his might. You didn’t know how he had escaped, or what the _actual fuck_ he was doing, but you didn’t hesitate. You pulled the pulse rifle from your back and fired, once, twice, three times until her limp body was hanging in the air, knocked out cold. _Or dead._

Baby beans crumpled to the ground, and the Ardennian followed suit, the ugly noise she made when she hit the ground brought a wicked smile to your cheeks. The baby’s little eyes were bleary and tired under his big droopy ears, and you scooped him carefully up off the ground to pull him in for a good, strong hug.

“Did you get the mean lady, sweetie? Good job! I don’t know what the fuck you did but hey, no questions asked, alright? I’m just glad you’re ok.” He smiled up at you with his tiny toothy grin before conking out in your arms, leaning heavily against your chest. You set him back down on the ground, just long enough to tie that six limbed asshole up _tight_ , using everything you still had above the waist to keep her captured. You tied her arms to her feet and slung her limp body over you like a rucksack, then picked the foundling back up. With your bounty, baby, and bare ass you started the hike back to your fallen man.

Mando still laid where you had left him on his side, and you were annoyed to realize that, out of everybody involved, you were the only one left awake. _Fantastic._ You returned the baby to his floating bucket, pulling it closer to the pair of you this time, and dumped the Ardennian in the dirt. There was no way you could maneuver three bodies at once, somebody was going to have to get up and walk.

“ _Mando!_ Mando get up, we gotta go.” The man in question didn’t budge, soft, muffled snores your only response. You tried everything you could think of, pulling on his hands and legs and shouting, anything to wake his ass up. You knocked on his helmet, “Ground control to Major Mando, time to get up! Rise and shine, bucket boy!” Nothing, he was going to have to sleep the after-effects of the potion off, so he was staying right where he was.

You had no idea how far you had gotten from the campsite, and the cold night air on your bare booty made you remember your half-nakedness. On the ground scattered around the pile of living beskar was your backpack and the remains of your pants, along with the rest of your trap gear. _Start packing more clothes_. You went for the gear first, pulling another set of cuffs and a good strong rope out, and added a few more knots to the half-dead quarry so she wouldn’t be pulling any bullshit in the night. The backpack still had the bantha-wool blanket wrapped up tight, and you tied it around yourself like a skirt. _Better than nothing._

Kneeling on the ground next to your Mandalorian, you cleared yourself a space to sit down, taking an extra second to make sure all his bits were tucked back out of view. You leaned back against the crook of his hips, feeling the slow rise and fall of his belly at your back. You were so tired, how many times had you been on the run in the last cycle alone? Your body desperately craved sleep, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the bounty. Anger crept its way back into your eyes again, and you wanted to take it out on her, channel your inner rancor. _No, she’s already lost. Go to sleep._

But the merciful tug of sleep didn’t come, and when you realized why you felt foolish. The child’s pram was on the ground where you had pushed it next to his fathers’ armored head. He was sleeping like a little prince, and didn’t move at all when you pulled him out of the crib. When he was situated in your arms you pulled Mando’s cloak around the three of you for extra warmth. Sitting upright was a horrible way to sleep, but with the baby safely in your arms and a blaster at your side, you were able to catch a handful of winks.

You woke up many times that night, worried that something might happen to your baby or your partner, and each time your eyes shot open you glared at the dark form in the grass; though not once did it move. Still, you didn’t trust that you were safe, and only when the rim of the planet that dominated the sky drifted over the horizon could you actually keep your eyes closed _._ But the blissful comfort of real sleep was torn from you by your lounge chair trying to get up on its own. The rush from trying to sit up too fast knocked Mando right back down on his back, and his hands went to his armored temples to try to stop the world from spinning.

“What…where am… where’s….” He shot up like a bolt of lightning “ _WHERE’S MY SON?!”_

“Right here!” You turned yourself to show the bug-eyed bundle to his father, letting him see that the child was safe. Mando wrapped his arms around you and the child, and you could hear his quick, shuddering breaths coming out from under the helmet. The hug was tight, a comforting fortress around your shoulders.

“Are _you_ ok? What happened? Why are we in the grass? Where’s the bounty? Did she get away?” His questions gushed like a river, urgent and frightened. You pointed at where the Ardennian was still on the ground, far enough away that she was out of earshot. She was awake now, but still immobilized. Her eyes were fixed on you, and you could see the edges of her mouth turning upwards into a snarl to bare her teeth. Din’s hands were all over you, inspecting you for damage, and his breath caught in his throat when he reached your waist. Big, ugly red and purple fingerprints were swelling up between the scrapes on your skin, and he pushed the edge of your makeshift skirt down to follow their horrifying trail; they were _everywhere._

 _“Who did this to you?”_ The volcano behind the beskar threatened to erupt with molten malevolence, “ _Did she do this to you?”_

“No Mando,” you sighed, a little hurt that he didn’t remember. “ _You_ did _.”_ The wall of metal armor went stiff as a rail, his visor locked on your eyes, looking for the truth. But the truth was right in front of him, and he couldn’t accept it.

“ _What?_ N-no.. I would never… I could never hurt you, _cyar’ika!_ Please… _please_ tell me that I didn’t do _this.”_ His fingers ghosted over your marks, but never touched them, his hands afraid of dealing more damage to your lovely skin. “I-I couldn’t have… I’m… I’m so sorr-” You cut him off with a hand on his helmet where his mouth might be.

“It’s not _your_ fault, you were _poisoned._ I’m just glad you’re _alive_ , Din.” The sound of his own name made his shoulders droop and his hands come up cradle your cheeks. You couldn’t meet his visor, the closeness of the distraught hunter making you flustered, so you tried to crack a joke. “I’m just glad you wanted to fuck _me_ instead of the Ardennian.” The way his helmet snapped backwards made you realize he didn’t remember _that part_ either. “Oh don’t look at me like that, I took it like a champ! You’re gonna have to do better than bruises to hurt this mighty hunter!” Your attempted words of comfort didn’t seem to work, and he pulled you and the wiggly child back to his chest in a world-erasing hug.

“Please just tell me you know I wouldn’t do this to you on purpose, I never want to hurt you again. _Please.”_

“Mando! I’m fine, really.” He held your head firmly, the blackness of the visor trying to bore though your very soul. You nodded in his grasp, “I know you didn’t, it’s alright, Din. I forgive you.” The force of his helmet knocking against your forehead almost made you see stars. His hands were wrapped around your head, holding you as close as he could in the intimate gesture of his people. You didn’t blame him at all for what happened, but it would be a while, if ever, before he could forgive himself.

“Oh isn’t that _puke._ Spare me the lovey-dovey _crap_ and take me back to the Guild already! Buncha bucketheads.” You didn’t want to address the Ardennian that hollered at you from from the grass, but the beskar bucket turned on her in a heartbeat. He sprang to his feet in a flash, pulling the pulse rife from the ground and firing, stunning the target for the fourth time, _fifth time, sixth, **seventh.**_

 _He’s gonna kill her._ You grabbed at his arm, demanding his attention “ _Mando,_ you got her, it’s over! It’s done.” Stance wide and chest heaving, the barrel of the long rifle stayed trained on the bounty for what seemed like an eternity before being lowered back to the ground. “Good, good, see, everyone’s ok. Let’s get back to the _Crest_ and get out of here, sound like a plan?” He nodded, still watching the limp-again simian for signs of movement. When he was sure there wouldn’t be any more argument he stalked over to the quarry and slung her over his shoulder, ready to make the long march back to the ship. You set the baby back in his pram so you could take a second to grab everything off the ground, making sure you had your pack and your mask, and followed Mando back through the woods.

After hours of silent hiking, the _Razor Crest_ came into view, and you had never been so happy to see the old girl, pretty as a plum in the violet haze. Once everyone was aboard, the fog of the carbonite chamber filled the tiny cabin to the brim, and left a new dark block in its wake. The Ardennian’s body was limp, though thankfully still alive; but the mischievous sneer couldn’t be erased so easily. You took a deep breath, sighing with relief that this hunt was over. Two down, one to go. _Then Nevarro._

Your Mandalorian hadn’t spoken to you the entire trek back to the ship, and he was distracting himself by placing all the weaponry back in their spots in the cabinet. _He’s still upset with himself._ You still wore the bantha-blanket skirt, and its soft edges swished around your ankles. Gently you placed your hand on his shoulder, and he jumped violently under your touch as he was brought back to the present.

“You know I’m not mad at you, right?” He didn’t meet your eyes, but his hands stopped fussing with the armory. “Really, Din, I don’t blame you at all. I’m ok.” You tugged on his waist, bidding him to turn and face you, but still he couldn’t lift his eyes from the floor. You ran your hands from his shoulders down his chest, trying to bring him comfort with your touch, but when you saw his utility belt you remembered what was in his pockets. A flashbulb of an idea lit up in your skull, and clear as day the reason for your frivolous purchase on Tatooine made itself known. “You know what, I’m so not-mad at you that I have a present for you.” You grabbed his belt to dig through the pouches, but strong hands shot up to carefully take your wrists.

“ _Mesh’la_ _no!_ Not after.. not after I- I can’t. I don’t _deserve_ your affections.” Your eyes met his visor, its gaze no longer staring down at the floor and instead watching you with intensity. A smile broke it’s way out past your teeth, followed by a knowing laugh.

“No, that’s not what I meant, good thought though. No, Mand-… _Din._ Din, I have a gift for you.” He hesitated to release your arms, but when you were free of his delicate hold you went back to the pockets on his belt and pulled the opalized krayt teeth from one of the pouches. Your companion’s visor followed the glittering treasures as they were brought into the light, and you wished you could see his bewildered face under the beskar. You handed them to him, and he carefully turned them over in his palm, letting the fossils catch the light and revealing their intricate patterns. His helmet tilted slowly, baffled that such beautiful things could be pulled from anywhere on his body, but the way his beskar sent streaks of light over his armor gave you a fantastic new idea.

Taking the treasures back from him you unscrewed the button fasteners that protruded from their backs, revealing the small, strong magnets hidden underneath; and pressed them up to his helmet. The teeth fit _perfectly_ in the recesses of his cheeks, like they had been made just for him; and though you knew hunters didn’t wear adornments, they still looked lovely. “I know you can’t keep them on, especially when we go hunt, but they still look nice on you. Now _you_ get to be my lucky charm.” His soft leather fingertips rubbed gently at his cheeks, feeling the way the indents had been filled with the precious jewels. The ship didn’t have any mirrors, and he would have to see how the swirling pools of crystalized moonlight looked the next time he took his helmet off. 

Wordlessly he reached out for you, taking your face in his hands and pulling your head to his so he could press your foreheads together. You were becoming fond of the mysterious gesture, letting the butterflies in your stomach stretch their iridescent wings and fan contentment into your heart. You pushed back against him, wrapping your own arms around his shoulders, locking his helmet to you. The whole galaxy could fly apart at the seams and you knew you would be alright, as long as you were right where you were, shielded in your Mandalorian’s embrace. _I wonder if he feels the same._ Tiny claws on your leg pulled your attention to the floor, and you were overjoyed to see big black orbs staring up at you.

“Little Beans! C’mere you, get in on this.” You hauled the foundling up between your bodies, letting him get a good look at you and his father. He chirped away, happily patting his papa’s fancy new trinkets, mesmerized by their shine. The little creature was full of energy, but you had been on your last leg for _hours_ and you couldn’t stifle your yawns any longer. “Boys, I can’t keep this up anymore, you’re both awful cute, but I need _sleep_.”

“Of course, _cyare,_ you’ve earned it.” Mando reluctantly stepped away from you and rolled out the Tusken sleeping mat that you had purchased. It was _much_ thicker than the sheet originally on the little cot, and a hundred times more forgiving. You were comfy in seconds, and the warm embrace of sleep started pulling on your limbs and shutting your eyes. A different touch was on your arm, and you lazily opened one eye to see an armored hand pulling the bantha blankie up snug around you. _Sweet, thoughtful murder-machine_ is what you had thought of him that first day, and the stupid pet name made you chuckle.

“What does that mean? That word, sire-eeka or sigh-air, they’re Mando’a, right?” You wouldn’t let sleep win you over without a fight, even if it was a fight you wanted to lose.

“ _Cyar’ika_. The closest translation in Basic would be sweetheart, or darling.” _Here we go again with Mando’a 101._

“Sweetheart, huh? Pfft… sounds like you _like me_ or something. What’s the other word mean? You’ve never used it before now.” He sighed, long and tired, and you could see the foundling on his lap, still enthralled with the glittering opal on his fathers’ metal face.

“I…I don’t know how to translate that one, but it’s _more_ than _cyar’ika_ , stronger, with more depth.” Something about his posture told you he might be lying, he knew _exactly_ how to translate that word, but he wasn’t ready to tell it to you. He might, though, when he was ready.

“Alright, tin man, if you say so.” Your eyes finally let themselves close all the way, but even in the darkness behind your lids your devious hands still found their way to him, giving his hand a good squeeze. “Teach me more someday?”

“For you, _ner cyare’se,”_ Your hand was pulled up from the blankets until the backs of your knuckles rested on the cool beskar of his brow, “I’d bring you the stars down from the sky, if you asked me to.”


	5. Devil's Advocate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: VICES: gambling/smoking/drinking (reader drinks) Introduction of chapter-specific OC characters. Lots of angst to fluff, sexy times of course.

You hated _everything_ about Canto Bight.

Everything about the city was so... _artificial_. The stadium flood lights, the glowing neon signs, even the ocean herself had been excavated from the planet’s stubborn sandstone surface instead of eroded naturally by the march of time. To you it was like looking at Corellia’s gold painted twin, a monument to the hubris of all sentient life.

Even the patrons of the gilded city were fake; their clothes, their makeup, their _personalities_. Every aspect of them was perfectly curated to deceive and lie, whatever fanciful display would work best to cheat their way to the jackpot. You almost wished you could look past the falseness of it, experience the visual fanfare of light and color that reflected on every surface. You wanted the music and the art and the decor that had been so carefully picked and placed to _mean_ something to you, to sparkle in your heart just as it sparkled in the eyes of the teeming masses. But, all for naught, the gleaming metropolis stung your eyes; and you turned away from it to admire the quaint little space that actually mattered to you.

You shared the tight quarters of the cockpit with the two strange boys that had recently whisked you away to the stars. Mando was seated in the pilot's chair with his tiny green son perched in his lap, trying to get him to eat his dinner without making so much of a mess. You had already eaten, and you were turning the last hunter’s puck over in your hand, reluctant to get this chase started and take away from the familial scene beside you. It would have to happen sooner or later, and you gave the puck a squeeze to fire up the projector. A ghostly blue fog glowed up into the space above your palm, and the face that looked back at you was surprisingly fair; if not for his crimson skin and long black horns you wouldn’t have known he was Devaronian by his elegant features alone.

Elios Blackwater was a dapper debonair, his high cheekbones angled sharply under devious eyes towards a sly, sharp toothed grin. The puck notes didn’t specify what he was wanted for, though from the looks of his charming smile and shifting eyes it could easily be anything from a gamblers quarrel to breaking hearts, with a higher reward for being returned alive rather than dead. He would most likely be in a heavily inhabited area, probably as close to Canto Bight’s aurelian heart as possible. You didn’t know why Mando had taken a bounty puck for such a densely populated world, and you would have loved to know what his plan was to get to the city’s casino center before you had arrived in his life. A pair of ragamuffin bounty hunters and their floating baby bucket would stick out like sore thumbs in this gilded mecca of gamblers. If you were going to get to your quarry without being arrested, you were going to have to blend in.

“We’re going to have to do something about... _this_.” You said, waving your hand in front of your partner’s ferocious attire, though truthfully you weren’t dressed any more appropriately for the mission at hand. “They’ll see us coming a mile away.”

He glanced down at himself with a tilt of his helmet, ignoring the mess his son was making of his meal. “What do you have in mind?”

You weren’t entirely sure yet. From where the _Crest_ was parked you could see the glittering city’s reflection sparkling on the water far ahead of you down the beach, a sight most would find alluring, but to you it was just harsh glare. Nearby where you had landed were other space craft parked up and down the gravelly, machine-carved beach; the pleasure cruisers of wealthy betters made your little scrapheap look even worse than it already did. You watched out the cockpit’s transperisteel window, noting the movement of patrons and their attending droids loading skiffs with piles of luggage, and got yourself a mighty fine idea.

"I think so, but you're probably not going to like it. Stay here." You rose from your seat and kissed the baby on the head, earning yourself a soft, mush-mouthed chirp before you slid down the ladder and let yourself out of the old rust bucket and into the salty sea air of the Cantonican night. Gravel crunched under your boots, and you took a moment to turn and glance back at the _Crest_ , catching the faintest flicker of scope glare where Mando was nervously watching you from the flight deck. Ahead of you a large cruiser was being unloaded by droids, the owners having long since made their way to the casinos, and you made yourself known to the robotic servants with your most charming damsel-in-distress voice.

"Hello! Excuse me! My luggage is too heavy to carry, can you help me? It's just over here on my ship..." The droid nearest you made a stiff bowing motion and tottered after you with the loaded hoverskiff floating along behind. You guided the droid up the open ramp and into the bowels of the ship to where your difficult luggage lay. It never stood a chance, bits of wire and duraplast flew across the cabin like confetti from the blaster shot to its head. Mando lowered his gun back to his holster, freeing his hands to help you haul the skiff into the narrow cabin space, then quickly close the ramp behind you.

The sled took up most of the walking space in the ship, so you got up on top of it and began looting through the stolen designer bags, pulling resplendent finery out into the hazy light. The first tote was full of piles of silk sewn for something with more arms than the two of you put together, so most of those items were tossed to the floor. The second bag was just capes, each a unique and lovely pattern, but nothing more. You demolished the remaining bags, making piles on the floor for ‘maybes’ and ‘definitely-nots’ until you found what you were looking for: a humanoid woman’s clothes.

Most of the unknown lady’s elegant garments would be just slightly too big on you, but you were able to settle on a soft, garnet colored evening gown that would go just above your knees, with extra length in the back. It had a sloping neckline that plunged at your cleavage, and around the bell of the skirt were silver rhinestones that caught the light of the cabin like dewdrops, the weight of them giving the dress a wistful sway. You wouldn't be able to carry much in such a revealing article, but a blaster and a knife alone had gotten you out of more trouble than you would care to admit.

You were fishing through the feminine things for something to do about your hair when you caught Mando in the corner of your eye. He was leaning against the hull wall, just watching you as you made a fat mess of the _Razor's_ interior. You smiled down at him from your floating perch and held up the fanciful garment that you had picked out for him to see. "You like it?"

"It doesn't suit you, _mesh’la_." He said with a lazy tilt of his helmet. You had begun to mentally keep track of all the Mando’a he used around you, and you were starting to notice his frequent use of affectionates. You spun slightly so he could get a good look at how the fabric moved in the light, but the hunter gear you currently had on took away from the loveliness of the expensive clothes. You guessed he preferred your killer garb anyway over the flimsy, delicate fabric. _Or nothing at all._

"Well, it’ll have to do, and if you don't start picking something out for yourself I’m going to dress you up like a dandy.”

He sighed, long and tired before turning his attention to the silken pile on the floor. You went back to the luggage, finding some knee high boots that were close enough to your size, but had a heel height that was going to make your ankles cry. You picked out some tasteless accessories: some bracelets, and big, jewel-encrusted hair pins to wear as well. The glitzier that you were, the less you would be noticed in this bass-ackward town. When you had made your frivolous selections you hopped off the skiff to help Mando with his costume. He was worse at finding something to wear than you were, having only picked out some of his own black leather gloves and two pairs of pants that were not made for human legs. Mandalorian armor did not come off as far as your metal man was concerned, and you were going to have to find a way to hide his bulk. You convinced him to lose his cloak, chest belts, and the bandoliers on his hips and boots, anything to lighten the load. Loose silks and stiff fiber combos would be your best friend, and you cobbled together what you could for your beskar-burdened buddy.

After what seemed like an eternity you had him dressed to the nines, or at least the eights. You had covered his chest plate in a black silk shirt and stiff black vest. The shirt had wide bottomed sleeves and neat, tight cuffs that hid his vambraces well, but you still made him wear a cinched-waist blazer plus a long, black and silver cape that almost reached the floor. You found a dark red pocket square that matched your dress and tucked it into the pocket of his vest, a subtle, but unmistakable announcement to the world that he was there with _you_. It was a ridiculous amount of fabric on top of an already massive mountain of metal, but the look was very in-style for Canto Bight. All together he actually passed for something besides a murder machine, and you gave yourself a mental pat on the back for a job well done. Mando held still for you while you fussed with his outfit with only the occasional huff. As much as he didn't like the idea of walking so boldly through the gilded city, he did enjoy your brazen touch each time you added another article of clothing.

“And now for the finishing touch.” There was nothing you could do about his helmet, so you were just going to have to make it look as nice as you could. You hadn’t changed into your chosen disguise yet, so you strode through the messy cabin with ease until you reached the lock box next to the cot. Inside you found the krayt’s teeth that you had gifted him and pulled them out into the light, waving them at him as you stretched over the heaps of fabric on the ground. He raised his hands in protest.

“What if I lose them?”

“You can wear _these_ or you can wear whatever the hell _this_ is.” You held up an enormous chain of jewels that looked like it belonged in the treasure case at an arcade instead of around somebody's neck. “Besides, I know you won't lose them, you like them too much.” He tilted his helmet at you with disdain, and you realized that was _precisely_ the reason he didn’t want to wear them, such lovely gifts should be kept safe and secure. But he let you press the precious trinkets into the recess of his helmet where his human cheeks would be anyway. The frozen pools of moonlight tied everything about his sin-city look into a perfect, glittery bow. You had grown to admire the look of him in his cultural armor, the ferocity of it, the utility and strength of the beskar that shined no matter how much damage it took; and you were a bit sad to see it hidden. The look of the man standing before you had a wildly different feel, though it was not one you were opposed to.

“You look nice, Din.” The sound of his own name coming from your lips made his heart swell, and he reached out for your hand on instinct to pull your knuckles to his brow in the sweet gesture of his people that you both now used. His movements caused the finery he was masquerading in to catch the cabin’s hazy light, and you got excited to put on your own costume and join him in looking like a fool. When he let your hand fall, you bounded over to your pile, throwing the hunting clothes off of yourself as you went. When you were standing there in nothing but your Tattooinian muck boots you cast a sly glance over your shoulder. As expected, the single black eye of your Mandalorian was locked on your almost-naked form, and you realized that in the time you had been together he had never seen you fully naked; just the parts of you he needed to get to in the moment. “How’s this? You like this better?”

When he didn’t answer right away you looked down at yourself and saw what he was staring at. You had forgotten about the marks of conquest he had put there when he had been driven to a sexual frenzy by the last quarry’s poison, still dotting your thighs with dark purple splotches. Not once had you been upset with him for his actions, you were just thankful you both made it through the ordeal alive, but he still looked at the damning marks with shame. He had been forced to break his protector’s oath against his will, inflicting injury to your precious body with his own two hands. You waited until his visor made its way back up to meet your eyes, and you reached out for him to give you his hand. He sheepishly obeyed, and you brought his hand to your lips, kissing at the all-black leather slowly until you heard him sigh through his modulator. You would forgive him a hundred times if you had to, and then a hundred more if it meant he could forgive himself. You pulled his hands to your waist and leaned up against him, enjoying the feel of new clothes on your skin and letting your hands run up his silken arms. “Well you can have _this_ ,” You nodded down at your bare everything with a mischievous grin, “As soon as we catch this fucko.” 

This was the last bounty you would need before you made the trip back to Nevarro, but you were still on the fence about how completing your mission made you feel. On one hand you would be free of the Guild’s relentless hunters, but on the other your partnership with the strange metal man and his adorable beanbag of a son would come to a close. You turned back to your outfit and began cinching a pair of thigh holsters to your legs, hiding your wincing face as the leather closed around your bruises; a blaster on one leg and a knife on the other. You pulled on the dress and fixed up your hair as best you could, then stepped out of your good boots and into the slutty knee-highs. There was only one loose end to take care of.

“Where’s baby?” You glanced around the messy cabin, looking for your foundling. In the corner under a pile of capes there was movement, and you cleared the flashy finery away to reveal your bestest little friend. Big, glittering orbs looked up at you from the pile of fabric, and a tiny toothy grin shined from his cute baby face. “Heya booger, you ready to go?” You scooped him up in your arms for a hug before picking a big shiny scarf up to wrap him up with, then placed him carefully down in one of the gaudy designer bags. “If anyone asks, he _is_ a pet.” The child didn’t seem to care, he was just happy to be included, waving his little pudgy baby hands up at you to hold. You squeezed his tiny paw, then turned to Mando, “You ready to go, Lord Beskar?”

He glanced down at himself, tilting his palms up and shrugging. “I guess so, I feel ridiculous.”

“Good enough!” You made for the exit ramp with a big stride, and almost broke your damn ankle on the first step, falling gracelessly into the arms of your partner. He caught you with ease, and your cheeks went red with his strong, gentle hands on you again for the hundredth time. You got to your feet, but you would be leaning heavily on him for most of the night until the boots were broken in. With you hanging off of his arm the two of you looked like a proper couple, just heading out for a night on the town instead of two bloodthirsty bounty hunters on the prowl. You might let yourself pretend though, just for the night.

You took a transport speeder from the beach to the city’s entrance, then made your way through the gilded streets, following the red blink of the bounty fob towards your quarry. You had to stop multiple times, the fucking boots making your feet hurt like you knew they would. Mando stood patiently with you each time, and more than once offered to just carry you. His visor would glide from side to side, always on the alert for anyone that might be following you, or worse, hunting you down. The tracking fob led you to the most obvious choice of casino: the tallest, brightest, shiniest temple of vice smack dab in the city’s center. 

The front entryway was dominated by a roaring, gushing fountain, shooting geysers in a perfectly timed pattern high into the Cantonican night sky. The fountain was lit up with bright, multicolored spotlights so that every stream of water and drop of spray glittered back in defiance of the stars that had inspired them. Inside, the casino floor was packed with patrons, ranging in size and species in an infinite array of wealth and power. Chandeliers hung high above you from the soaring cathedral ceilings, sending sparkling lights racing around the endless room like shooting stars. Every surface was bright and gleaming, dozens of pillars and statues illuminated by blinding limelight. Even the floor was magnificent, black and white marble with huge inlaid stars, guiding gamblers through the limitless space towards their wildest desires. Again you wished you could appreciate the extravagance of it all, though the way the lights streamed like mercury over the beskar of your pretend date made something else sparkle behind your eyes. 

The smell of inhalants and alcohol burned in your nose, and you took a moment to make sure your purse puppy’s face was covered with something so he wouldn’t have to endure it as much as you were. The sound of gamblers and music and roaring competition was louder than the screams of the hyperspace engine aboard the Crest, the cacophony of it all making you anxious. You were thankful that you weren’t hunting this bounty alone, and you still held on to Mando tightly, letting him lead you over the cosmic marble floor through the streaming masses. The people paid you no mind, moving out of the way without casting a second glance. Your costumes were working _exactly_ as you had intended, and you applauded yourself for how well you had deceived the City of Lies.

You had guessed that if your bounty would be anywhere, it would be at the center of attention, and you were right. Elios Blackwater sat at the atrium bar, surrounded by beautiful and interesting people. The glint of gold jewelry caught the radiant casino lights every time he moved, drawing the eyes of all those around him. He was telling some kind of wild story that had his little crowd hooked on every word, though you could tell from a distance he was all bullshit. Immediately you knew this was a man that was used to having everything he desired, never being denied a single whim in all his days. A plan began to simmer in your skull, and you knew right away your partner was _not_ going to like it. If you were going to get the quarry alone, you were going to have to persuade him to leave the company of his fans, and you only knew one sure-fire method for a man of Blackwater’s tastes. You let yourself off of your escorts’ arm to turn and face him, pulling his hands to your hips and letting your own rest on his shoulders so that to any outsiders you two would be just another pair of passionate dancers making their way through the counterfeit cosmos. 

“Mando, do you trust me?” His hidden eyes were still glancing around the room, scanning for any lurking threats.

“Of course.” His words went right over your head, his ears too full of the sounds of potential danger to really hear you. You huffed and ran your hands to his bedazzled helmet, pulling it down to meet your eyes. 

“Pay attention, bucket boy. I need to hear you say it and know that you _mean it_. Do you _trust me_?” He cocked his head, confused that you would have to ask twice. 

“Yes, _ner cyar’ika_ , I trust you.”

“Good.” You let your hands fall back to his armored shoulders, pressing yourself up against him tighter. Your fingers fidgeted in the heavy material of his cloak, he was going to _hate_ this. “Because I need to do something. Alone.” 

That got his attention fast. 

“No, it’s too dangerous here. I want you where I can protect you. What if there’s hunters?”

“I know, I need you to cover me, but from a distance. I think I can convince Elios to walk right into the carbonite freezer, but I can’t do it with you looming over me.” You wrapped your hands around the back of his helmet, pulling him down so that his forehead met with yours. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t think it would work.” He sighed between your hands, the steam of his breath slipping out from under the helmet’s edge. There was nothing he would rather _not do_ than be away from you, but he did trust you, and he nodded against your embrace.

“I’ll call for you as soon as I’m ready, ok? Just keep your eyes on me, and _don’t_ cause a scene. No matter what.” You couldn’t kiss him like you wanted to, but you still pressed your lips to the side of his beskar before letting go, pulling yourself away from his tender grasp. His hands still floated in the space where you had been as you turned away from him and made your way to the bar, the heavy purse bumping against your weaponized thighs with every flint and tinder step of your sky high heels. As you got closer to the bounty you could hear the shreds of his conversation starting to make their way over the noise of the casino.

“...And I said ‘Darlin’ if you didn’t want to take it _home_ with you, ya shouldn’t have put it in your mouth!” The way he was telling his story gave you the impression that it wasn’t one you wanted to hear, and you started to regret your foolhardy plan. Gold rings and precious jewels sparkled all the way from his fingers to the caps on his horns, making it impossible for most to look away, a fact made apparent by his captivated audience. The beautiful boozers laughed and cheered at his every word, though from his stupidass sounding story you wondered how much of the affection was alcohol induced. You pulled a seat up at the bar a few stools away from the crowd and ordered yourself a shot of spotchka and a couple packs of cookies. You slipped the snacks into your bag for Din’s foundling, you would be needing him for your plan to work as well; and the promise of treats would keep his bright-eyed attention on you. 

The taste of spotchka was vile, but you had started your journey though the galaxy on the gigantic starcruisers that were built on your homeworld of Corellia, and you had gotten to know the taste of the sailor-favorite drink at a tender age. You sipped at your brew, listening casually to the Devaronian’s conversation, but never turned your eyes to him. Every once in a while another bar patron would swagger up beside you to offer you another shot. You turned down anything you didn’t order yourself, but you started telling them fabricated stories about your life among the stars, most of which were wild tales of fancy from old holovids you had seen. You wished you could turn around and find your favorite rust bucket, wherever he may be hiding among the festivities, and give him something to reassure him. A nod or a wave, anything to let him know you weren’t just making him jealous on purpose. 

Soon you were throwing back brightly glowing shots of brew, and a handful of interested patrons had gathered around you to hear about how you had jerry-rigged a star cruiser to run on spotchka when you were a space pirate smuggling kyber crystals for the resistance, among other things. When you had your head tilted back you cast a glance towards the bounty, and saw what you had been waiting for. His hooded eyes were watching you intently, he didn’t like that someone was getting any of the attention pie that he believed was his alone, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he had to do something about it. Soon enough the dapper devil rose from his entourage, running a painted claw through his long dark hair before making his way to you, sauntering with every step.

_Hook._

“Well hello there, darlin’, name’s Elios. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing chugging spotchka when you could be drinkin’ something as _fine_ as you are?” The debonair’s words were long and slow, making sure that every drawn syllable would be heard. “ _Bartender!_ Get this lovely lady a _real_ drink, if ya please.” You weren’t sure what counted as a ‘real drink’, but the dark liquid that was slid over to you stank even worse than spotchka with the strength of its proof. Elios couldn’t stand that someone else might be having more fun than he was, and he was determined to put you out of commission. He wanted to do it in such a way that you would be thanking him for it, preferably while on your knees. “What’s yer name, baby cakes?”

From the other side of the busy casino you could feel the void of a visor making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Mando was standing on the far side of the slot machines where the light was just a little less glaring, so motionless he might have been part of the decorations. He wasn’t sure what your plan was, or how you would talk the quarry into being captured without gaining the suspicion of the wandering security enforcers. He bristled whenever a bar patron started trying to make nice with you, and only got progressively more frustrated when more and more started hanging around you. When he saw the bounty slink his way over to you he wanted to dash across the marble floor and break his fucking neck just for being in your airspace. _‘Don’t make a scene, no matter what’_ is what you had told him, and you had asked him to trust you. So he did as he was asked. Watching, waiting.

“Hmm, I don’t think you could _handle_ it.” Oh, Elios didn’t like that one bit, nobody told _Mr. Blackwater_ ‘no’ without consequences. He swirled a glass of the same dark liquid around in one perfectly manicured hand, his polished claws clicking on the side of the glass. You continued to ignore him, but you started on the new drink in front of you. _Yucky, at least spotchka was familiar._ He took your acceptance of the drink as an invitation to join you at the bar. 

“You’re awful sly, baby cakes, tell me yer name so I can make you _forget it_ later.” His pointed teeth flashed out from his crooked smile, and you could smell the stench of expensive cologne and aftershave. You rolled your eyes big and wide so he could see just how unimpressed you were, but your nose was burning from how bad he smelled. This was a bad idea, but only because of how well it was going to work. _Fresher soap, where are you?_

“I’ll tell you what, if you can out-drink me, I’ll tell you my name.” His wicked smile split his face, showing off rows of brilliant white fangs. Party-boy could probably hold a few good shots, but you were raised by sailors, and you were gonna drink his ass under the table. 

“You’re on, sweet cheeks. Bartender! Another round!” Another set of shot glasses plinked to the counter, and vanished just as fast. Elios was eyeing you up and down, seeing if you were all bark and no bite. If he could just get you drunk enough…

Far from where you were drinking the Mandalorian you had asked to trust in you was _furious_ , trying not to thumb the handle of his blaster that poked out from the side of his hip under his cloak. It would be so _easy_ , he could hit the target from here and it would be over, you would be back by _his_ side and not being drooled over by that fucking pathetic excuse for a man. 

“He has that effect on people.”

Mando’s helmet snapped on the sounds’ source, so lost in vicious thoughts that he didn’t hear the stranger come to lean against the wall by him. They were tall and thin, translucent green skin and a mop of hair-like cilia growing from their head to their flowy chiffon clothes. They looked _exhausted_. “That your girl over there?” Mando followed their gaze wordlessly, reluctant to make friends right now while he was busy waiting for you to call him back to your side. “Thought so.” The stranger took a long drag on an inhalant, blowing vibrant pink clouds into the smoky room. “Sorry for your loss, Elios _always_ gets what he wants.” Mando turned again to the stranger, fixing them with his black hole glare, but they only shrugged; watching the drinking game unfold between you and the devil himself. 

“Another!” You hollered, but the glasses were already in front of you, then gone again. The Devaronian hissed back the sting of the high-dollar liquor, shaking his long mane that had started to come undone. You pretended to reel from the liquor's effects, leaning back just a tad too far on your seat. “Again!” The third round of shots came and went, and Elios nearly fell off his stool. _Right where I want you._ You waved at the bartender for the fourth and final shot that would probably put the devil right on his ass, but that’s not where you were headed with this show of tenacity. You had to get him alone before you made your capture, or the security enforcers that littered the casino floor would descend on you like vultures. 

You waited til he had thrown his drink back before you tilted yours, purposely spilling a few drops down your front so the booze would trickle down between your breasts. Elios nearly choked, and you knew you had his full, undivided attention. _Din, I’m so sorry._

“Woo! I don’t think I can do any more, _Mister_ Blackwater, you win.” you feigned, holding the back of your hand up to your forehead, trying to convince him that the room was spinning for both of you and not just him. His sultry laugh made your skin crawl.

“Please, call me _Elios_.”

_Line._

“Well, _Elios_ , you still wanna know my name? You’re gonna have to _work_ for it.” You placed a hand on his leg, running your fingers up his thigh and around the edge of his waist, pulling at his pockets seductively to drive the point home. _Does he have SCALES? What the fuck ew ew ew._ He took the hint like a drunk takes to spotchka, flashing you a slurred smile. 

“Well… sugar lips, we can take this... _elsewhere_.” 

“Sure thing, _Elios_ , lemme just have my attendant take my Poochie up to my room.” You held the heavy purse up so he could see the big black eyes hiding in its depths. 

“What the fuck is that thing?”

“He’s a pet, obviously.”

“What kind’a fuckin’ pet?”

“Purebred.” Your quick answer seemed good enough for Mr. Drinky, and he nodded like that made perfect sense. You raised your fist to the air and snapped your fingers.

The human fortress was at your side in a heartbeat, towering above the two of you. You stuffed the purse in his hands before he could ask where to point his gun. “Here, take Poochums up to my room, mama’s not coming home tonight, if y’know what I mean. Get him washed and fed, and don’t forget to scrub his feet!” 

“Yes _Ma’am_.” The bag was lifted carefully from your fake-drunk hands, and you tried to flash him your best _‘Please-don’t-be-mad-at-me-I-hate-this-too’_ face at your partner, but you guessed the look was lost on his visor. The scene did not escape Elios’s eyes like you had hoped it would. 

“Now what in the Mmmmaker’s Mammaries is that big ass fuckin’ thing? That some kinda droid? It’s _damn_ fancy.” _Shit balls of hell._

“Uh.. Yes! This is the _finest_ in personal assistant droid technology! See, look.” You grabbed Mando’s empty arm and pulled back sharply on the fabric, revealing the delicate button panel of his vambrace. “Only the best money could buy...” 

“I gotta get me one of those...” Elios stared bewildered as your personal petsitting droid turned and left. “Well, honey tits, you wanna take this upstairs?” _Ugh._

“Oh _suurrre…_ Oh Mr. Blackwater I’m _~soooo~_ drunk ahaha…” You were barely buzzed, and you worried that your life among the stars had given your liver bigger balls than a bounty hunter. You wobbled on your stool, for phase two of your plan to work you would have to delay Elios as long as possible. You watched as the man whose heart you had stolen faded away from you, the fancy purse hooped over his shoulder and knocking up against his leg, cape billowing behind him as he went. _Alright, Baby Beans, it’s up to you now!_

Din was seething under his helmet, pissed as shit that this was what your elaborate ‘plan’ entailed. He was trying not to storm through the casino as he left to take your ‘Poochums’ up to your room, whatever the hell that fucking meant. How could he be so fucking stupid? This was _exactly_ the same ruse you had tried to pull on him from day one. Seduction was your real talent, luring your lovers to their untimely demise. How many times had you pulled this stunt? Was this your master plan all along? _Ouch._ Play with his heart until you were free of your Guild warrant? _Ow._ You were just using him to get to Nevarro, then you would fuck off to the stars and leave him behind. After everything you had been through, he was just another notch on your bedp- 

_“OUCH!”_

Din looked down to his side where the pain he was trying to ignore was coming from, and saw a fat green paw sticking out of the ugly expensive purse, digging vicious talons into the side of his leg. His foundling was trying to burrow through his thigh, and his claws might actually have drawn blood. “ _What_ , womp rat? What do you want?” There was something in the baby’s other hand, something golden and flashy. Din reached into the bag and pulled the embossed card from his son’s grasp. _What’s this?_ There was a set of numbers etched in gold filigree in the top of the card, their shimmer blasting away the destructive void he had been spiraling into.

_Key card! PENTHOUSE key card!_ You had tricked the bounty into getting close enough to you that you could pick his pocket without him noticing. You were luring Elios right into a trap, and your Mandalorian was the snare. Din felt a mix of emotion ranging from relief to shame, how could he even _think_ for one second that you might be deceiving him? You had asked him to trust you, and he couldn’t even contain his jealousy long enough to make it through _one hunt_. He felt like such an ass, you were putting your skills to good use, at great risk to your own safety, just like he had asked you to from the beginning. This wasn’t just _his_ hunt anymore, it was a joint effort between the two of you, and it was his turn to run the next leg of the relay. The heavy, silver-laced cloak was tossed to the side as he raced to the elevator, fluttering away behind him as he flew to beat you there.

Meanwhile, you were trying to keep the bounty from falling flat on his face, and the only way to do that was to hold him up yourself. His hands were all over you, the nick of sharp, neat claws catching on the fabric of your evening dress and scratching along your skin. _I’m gonna break those fingers, motherfucker._ He was slurring his words, making disgusting promises of what he was gonna do to you when you reached his private penthouse. You were just out of range of his boozehole, the lippy thing trying to steal a taste of you. Wobbly steps slowed you both down to almost a crawl, which was exactly what you were trying to do, anything to give Mando time to find the hotel room first. You passed a discarded cloak on the floor, the familiar silver inlay catching the light, and you worried that you might have pushed your partner too far. _What if he left? What if he didn’t see the keycard and I’m heading up alone? Please be there, Din. Please don’t leave me with this fucking creep._ You both reached the elevator, and Elios fumbled to find his wallet, thankfully having a spare key that he didn’t know he needed. The doors opened, and you realized you would be stuck in your own personal hell for the entire trip up to the top floor suite. Fucking super. 

Elios was getting impatient during the ride up, and it took every fiber of your being to keep from retching as his well-moisturized hands ran up and down your spine. The elevator door opened directly into the penthouse, and his perfectly manicured claws dug into your ass to usher you into the room. The top floor suite was dark, save for the lights of Canto Bight shining in through the cathedral windows. You took a mental note of the speeder parked out on the balcony, you would be needing it later. The Devaronian was at your ear, breathing hot, boozy steam around your neck until he was facing you. He went to bite at your mouth, but you stopped him with a finger to his lips.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." You whispered in your most convincing lust-laden voice. The devil chuckled and ran his slimy, forked tongue around the halting digit. _Barf._

"Oh yeah, baby cakes? Why’s that?"

You batted your eyelashes and bit your lip into a wry smile before meeting his half-lidded eyes. "Because... you're going to make Daddy _very angry_."

His lips turned upwards in an aroused sneer, flashing his dazzling, daggerlike teeth, "How could getting a taste of that fiery little mouth’a yours make me angry, darlin’?"

_Sinker._

"I'm not talking about _you_ , I'm talking about _him_."

Elios didn't even have a chance to turn around to see where your eyes were looking before a black and silver fist broke his nose and sent his perfect teeth soaring across the room, throwing him down to the marble floor. Seeing his busted prettyboy face bleeding at your feet made you feel so relieved that a vicious shiver made its way from your head to your toes, and you let your body shake the devil’s touch off of you like a big wet bantha.

"Fuck! Oh _fucking hell_ , Mando, you have _-no idea-_ how hard it was to keep that up, he’s _so gross!_ I’m gonna chuck his ass in carbonite _so fucking hard_ his horns’ll break off!" Your partner was still squared up, just waiting for the interloper to try and get up and fight. He wanted the bounty to get up, flail, scream, any excuse to hit him again. But Blackwater was out cold, staining the white marble floor with his blood.

"You looked like you were handling it."

The deadpan tone of his voice told you that wasn't exactly a compliment, remembering the jealousy that had seethed out of him on Tatooine after that Trandoshan had tried to capture you. You had two choices: you could either try to defend yourself and your unconventional bounty catching method, or you could turn that jealousy in your favor. He didn’t remember much from his toxic encounter with the Ardennian, but you knew that every filthy, possessive thing he had said to you that night was still somewhere in that chrome dome of his; and you became determined to bring them to the light. You crossed one arm over your chest, raising the other to tap a finger against the corner of your lips.

"Oh? You didn't _like that_ , did you? Didn't like that he had his hands on me? Touching things that don’t belong to him?" He didn't answer, but the creaking of leather from his fists tightening told you what you already knew. " _Tell me_ , Mando."

"N-no." His visor remained fixed on the unconscious body still bleeding on the floor. _Not good enough._

"No _what_?"

"No. I _didn't like_ that." His voice was low and raspy, but only because he was trying to keep the boiling rage in his chest from blowing his fucking helmet off.

"Tell me _what_ you didn't like." You stepped over the quarry to your man, running your fingers from his balled fists over his silk and steel arms until you were at his shoulders. You could feel the slightest shudder under all his layers at your touch.

"I _didn't like_ him _touching_ you. _Nobody_ should put their hands on you, _cyar'ika_ " His fists lowered to his sides but his visor was still on the floor. You let your hands wander up his neck to the bejeweled recesses of his helmet and turned him to meet your eyes.

"Why not?"

"B-because..."

"I want to hear you _say it_."

"Because you are _mine_." He growled through his helmet so hard that you swore you saw it vibrate, sending a delicious tingle though your spine. Atta boy.

_“Again.”_

“You are _mine!_ ” Even behind the beskar you could hear the clench of his teeth biting back deeper desires. His hands went to your waist, pulling you tightly to his chest. The fire coming off of him was _scalding_ , you had pushed your luck too far with this one, and you could feel the volcano inside his ribcage boiling over. He was _furious_. His heavy armored head pushed against your brow, and you let your thumbs wrap around the bottom of his helmet to find the thinnest sliver of skin where the metal met the man.

“That’s right, I’m _all yours_.” When you had said that line to him the first time, you had been plotting your escape from his clutches, but as the reassuring words left your lips you knew there was nobody else in the galaxy you would have running their hands up your sides; and you mentally crossed ‘seduction’ off of your list of hunting skills for good. His oath of _me'dinuir_ had swore him to your side alone, and now you knew without a shred of doubt that you wanted it to go both ways; whether you were Mandalorian or not.

You kissed at the bottom of his visor, so close to getting to feel the true, living flesh of him, and yet so far. You had to have him, you had to purge the demon’s touch from your body with the purifying fire of your protector’s rage. A choked, needy groan made its way out of the modulator, and you felt the heat of his breath on your skin. How desperately you wanted to taste it, fill your mouth with the flavor of him to replace the vile spotchka. You pushed up on his jaw, giving you just a tiny glance at his scruffy chin, and you forced your kisses into the tight, unyielding space of the beskar prison. It wasn’t enough for you, but it was a start, and you could feel his body starting to unwind at your touch. “Kiss me. _Please_ , Mando.”

“ _Cyar'ika_ , it's not safe here.” He hated the sound of his own words, the denial of them crushing his very soul. You glanced around the dark penthouse and saw you were alone save for the crumpled devil on the floor and the designer purse that had been stashed in the corner of the room, its occupant still working on the bags of cookies. _No eyes on us._

“I won’t look, just... lift your helmet a _tiny_ bit, tin man, I _need_ you, I need to kiss _you_.” You guessed you were safe enough from prying eyes, but you wouldn’t spill his name to the night just in case there were any sneaky listeners. You squeezed your own eyes shut and nipped at the armors edge again, and just ever-so-slightly began to push up on the unforgiving metal with your thumbs. You were just waiting for his hands to shoot up, to grab your wrists and halt your actions, but they were locked to your sides. Inch by inch you gradually lifted the armor, he would have all the time in the world to stop you, but when you felt the heat of his lips crash against yours you almost let your knees buckle out from under you. His strong arms were tight on your back, pulling you into him so he could kiss you harder.

_So much better than spotchka_. He was _delicious_ , his taste, his feel, his _scent_ , everything about him was intoxicating. So much more so than the despicable brew you had been throwing back all night, and a thousand times better than anything Elios could have offered. _Blech._ You realized then why the bounty had smelled so bad to you, though his perfume was expensive and his clothes freshly pressed, he was _wrong_ for you. The wrongness was so overwhelming that it had nearly made you lose your drink, and you didn’t realize how _wrong_ something could be until you tried to compare it to what was _right_. Din was _right,_ he smelled of leather and beskar and the sweat of a man that had nearly combusted when someone else was at your side. _And fresher soap! Thank the Maker._

A soft leather hand went to your head, pulling you into him so he could taste you better. His tongue ran over your lips, darting into you to find yours so they could dance together. You bit him playfully, and the way his breath hitched in his throat sent the fire of your core shooting all the way to your fingertips; and you knew right then that not even kissing his forbidden face would be enough for you. You pulled yourself from his lips, the snap of teeth following your retreat, reluctant to let you leave from the heat of the moment. Carefully, you let the beskar slide back down to cover him, and the anguished whine he let out into the night air almost broke your heart.

“I know, I know, I’m so _mean_ to you, aren’t I?” With him covered you glanced around the room until you saw the private bar. With your thumbs hooked in the pockets of his borrowed vest you guided the two of you towards it until the granite countertop knocked against your ass. You used his shoulders for leverage, hopping up onto the cold surface and wrapping your knees round his waist, happy to find _exactly_ what you were expecting to throbbing between your legs. He pushed himself against you, the feel of his stolen silks on your holstered thighs giving you goosebumps. His heavy metal head fell against your shoulder, and you wrapped your arms around him to hold him close while he ground up against your heat. He couldn’t contain himself around you, though you wouldn’t want him to if he could. You rocked your hips in time with his needy thrusts, and the growls in your ear almost made you think he would come undone with his pants still on. _Can’t have that now, can we?_ "Mando, _please_ fuck me, I can't wait anymore."

You heard thunder rumble out of his chest, sending electricity from where he was pressed to your shoulder straight down to where he was pulsing against your core. He was going to bring you the stars, alright, but not the ones in the night sky. He pulled back so he could look into your eyes from behind his visor, bringing a hand up to caress your pleading face.

"No, I don't want to _fuck_ you." Your eyes shot wide, shocked that he wouldn't want you when he was rutting so hard into you that you could almost feel the dampness of precum through his layers. He saw your face and shook his head. "Elios wanted to _fuck_ you, all of those creeps at the bar wanted to _fuck_ you.” His helmet shook, trying to loosen the words he wanted to say. “No... I- I want to be better than _them_ , I want to give you something else, s-something more.” He was struggling, his inexperience making it difficult to say what was on his mind. All he knew was that he didn’t want to be like _them_ , he wanted to be worthy of you in ways they never could.

“Then _make love_ to me instead.”

_“Yes!”_ The words leaving your lips were like music to his ears, so much more lovely than any song. “I want to do _that!_ I want to _make love_ to you, _cyar’ika_ , if you’ll have me?”

You laughed, nodding your head to hide your bright red cheeks. How he managed to be so ferocious and so sweet on the same day was a mystery you didn’t want to solve. He quickly glanced around the room one more time just to be sure you were alone, the light of the gilded city sending streaks of color over the charms you had pressed to his cheeks. Satisfied that you were the only ones awake in the room, he leaned away from you to rip the constricting blazer off of himself so hard the fabric around his chest and shoulders started to tear. Beskar plates twinkled in the limelight, sending stars flying around the room while he worked his pants open. The sight of him springing into view made your heart flutter, among other things. Long and strong, a pearl of precum glimmering in the dark of the penthouse. His hands went to your legs, the leather of his palms snagging on the straps still belted to your thighs as he pushed the elegant fabric of your dress up to your waist. 

“You’re _soaked_.” You wished you could see what he saw through his visor, the sound of hitched breath telling you he could see you blooming for him clear as day, drinking you in with his hidden eyes. He hooked a thumb in the wet fabric of your panties to pull them out of the way, using his other hand to grip his cock and run the tip over your entrance, bumping against your clit while he lubed himself with your slick. You had to lean back until you were laying on the cold granite countertop, tilting your hips to the edge of the bar so he could see all of you on display. He pressed himself up and in, filling you slowly so he could indulge in every inch that disappeared inside. Your stretched walls clenched around him, making him shiver with each coiled squeeze. The Mandalorian you were giving yourself to pulled himself out of you carefully before thrusting back into you again, fighting every animalistic urge to just plow you into the bar. He was going to make good on his word, he wasn’t going to just _fuck_ you.

But maybe he should have.

_“Bing!”_

The penthouse elevator door chimed, and both of you pointed blasters on the figure that walked out from the pink haze of the lift into the dark of the room. “Elios? I know you’re up here, I’m just going to get- Oh. _There_ you are.” The stranger spotted the crumpled, unconscious body on the floor, crossing the room until they stood over him. “About time someone split that beautiful lip of yours, Lee-lo.” The stranger that Mando had run into on the casino floor turned their tired eyes to the pair of you, noticing your obvious state of passion. “Oh please, don’t stop on my account, that’s not the worst thing I’ve walked into up here.” They squinted in the dark, then gasped softly, “Wait, it’s _you!_ Oh _good!_ I saw you when you were dancing and was just heartbroken when Lee-lo came between you.” The tall stranger did a little dance. “Fucking _Elios_.” They kicked at the Devaronian on the floor, “All he _lives_ for is breaking hearts. I’m glad you two made up.”

The wisp of a stranger bent down to the motionless figure on the floor, yanking one of the gold rings from his horns. They said something too low for you to hear, then got up and left in another cloud of pink smoke, the elevator door closing behind them.

You both lowered your blasters, trying to wrap your collective heads around what had just happened. Mando was still buried to the hilt inside you, and you could feel him pulsing with need; but he had been right from the beginning. You weren’t safe here.

“That’s probably not the only spare key. We should go.” You whispered, trying to get your blaster back to its holster under your dress. He groaned, he was getting sick of being torn away from you. He pulled himself almost all the way out, thrust in one more time for good luck, and released himself with a _pop!_ He pulled you to your feet, helping you down from the bar and onto the Maker-forsaken boots you still had on. _Fuck these_. You ripped the boots off, chucking them somewhere into the dark and crossed the room barefoot to where the oversized purse held the foundling. You were happy to see him all tuckered out in a pile of cookie wrappers, probably not the healthiest thing for him, but it worked. Behind you, your armored companion was hauling the quarry over his shoulder none too gently, ‘accidentally’ knocking his bloody head against the wall as he turned back to you. You both made for the balcony door to the speeder you had noticed earlier, tossing the bounty in the back seat like a bag of garbage. 

The ride back to the _Crest_ was thick with anticipation, you weren't finished with each other just yet. Mando pulled the speeder right up to the ramp so you wouldn’t have to walk across sharp gravel, chucking the bounty in after you so hard he slid through the messy cabin and smashed into the wall. You slung the damned devil into the carbonite chamber, punching the freeze button with gusto. The ramp closed behind your armored companion, barely giving you a chance to get up onto the hoverskiff that still dominated the cabin floor before the lights went off. You yanked the dress over your head, listening for the sound of more fabric hitting the floor, then the clanking of beskar being tossed carelessly aside. Belts and snaps and zippers went flying, and you had to try not to laugh at the absurd amount of clothes he had to take off. The skiff tilted with new weight, and the body of a Mandalorian was on top of you, warm lips hunting for yours.

_He’s naked!_ Every piece of armor and shred of clothing was _gone_ , and the feel of bare skin against your body was _electrifying_. His mouth crashed against yours, fervent kisses desperate to taste you again. You let your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him into you to kiss back. He was _hungry_ for you, biting at your mouth and tongue like a man starved. Plush lips made their way from your mouth down your neck, nipping at your throat and sucking the tender skin until you had bruises to match the ones on your thighs. His hands wandered down your body, rubbing at your breast and teasing your nipples until you were gasping for more. The devious digits moved on until his hand was between your legs, pushing at your folds and finding your clit to spin circles on. He was becoming an expert at finding what made you squirm and whine from his touch, rolling callused fingertips into you until you were making a delicious mess on the pile of stolen silk. 

But he wasn’t done there. The fuzzy kisses went from your breast down your belly to where his fingers were working into you. He pulled his hands from your soaked cunt and replaced them with his face, pushing his tongue up against the tiny ball of nerves that had so much power over you. Short, quick circles between long, languid licks had you arching your back and pulling his hair, demanding more. Lost in the heat of your thighs he was happy to give you everything, pushing the smooth muscle of his mouth into your slit and upwards against your clit until you were seeing stars again. 

Your hands couldn’t stop exploring him, from his thick head of curls to the strength of his shoulders. The muscles kept going, tight coils on his back and the warm, rigid wall of his chest. The trail of fuzz on his belly went up farther than you were expecting it to, and the fine hairs tickled your fingers on almost every inch of his skin. Your hands trailed over the numerous, vicious scars that marred his flesh like a road map of every near-death experience he had lived through. Gashes on his arms and burns on his sides had healed over into smooth, textureless skin, the marks of a seasoned hunter that nobody but their barer had ever seen.

Having drank his fill, he pulled his face from the apex of your thighs, pushing your knees apart and quickly sheathing himself in you with a ragged groan. Mando’a praises poured from his lips, some you were familiar but many you weren’t, though all of them made your heart flutter. Strong hands wrapped around your knees to keep you in place on the wobbly sled while he pounded into you, the feeling of bare skin on the backs of your legs making you wish you could see him in the light. But the darkness was the greatest keeper of secrets, hiding your love making from the condemnation of his creed. 

_Make love._ Though the phrase was just another on the long list of euphemisms used for sex, the pair of words weighed heavy with meaning in their new context. You wanted to explore the concept the way your hands explored his body, but the fire of your core was thrumming with heat, demanding your undivided attention. Din fell forward to your chest, the sweat of his efforts sticking to your breasts. Wandering kisses sent fire over your skin as he made his way over your peaks, sucking hard on their tender buds. Beskar-strong hips rocked against yours until you saw fireworks again, bearing down so hard on him with your orgasm that he sank his teeth into the crook of your shoulder. Bites made their way from where he had surely drawn blood on your flesh up your neck til they turned to kisses again. His brow pushed against your forehead, though your lips were _right there_ he still defaulted to the only show of affection his armored inheritance allowed. Hot gasps of air puffed over your skin from the heat of his breath, and you knew he was close. You locked your legs around him, forcing him to pump every last drop of himself into you, painting your walls with his seed until it was spilling down your ass onto the piles of clothes.

The strength of his arms gave up, and he let himself fall against you, his face pushed against your cheek. You could feel his bristles brushing over your skin as his breath heaved, soft but scratchy. His hands wrapped under you and up your back, hugging you to his bare chest so hard the air was squeezed from your lungs. Fuzzy-lipped kisses dotted your cheeks and face, taking extra time to kiss your lips, each one a promise of more to come. You dragged your nails over his back, making him groan and shake at the touch. _Never had anyone to scratch that itch, have you, tinman?_ Tight muscles loosened under your careful touch, making him sink harder onto you until you couldn’t tell where he ended and you began. 

You wanted to stay there forever, but as the sweat on your bodies cooled it became sticky and made pulling yourselves apart a chore. Both of you reluctantly made your way off of the skiff, clinging to the walls of the cabin while he hunted for his helmet in the dark. Lights came on gradually once his bucket was back in place so you could find your own clothes, and when you had both gotten yourselves put back together you piled everything you had stolen onto the hoverskiff and pushed it back down the ramp of the Crest. The Mandalorian was back in his beskar, and he cocked his vambrace back and shot a wall of fire onto the little sled, incinerating all evidence of your thievery and passion. The bonfire burned brightly on the gravelly beach of the Cantonican ocean, sending flaming ash into the light of the new dawn. 

You decided to keep the red pocket square that you had tucked in on his costume, though you weren't sure what you would need it for again. _Sentimental._ You went to the supply crates where your backpack and droid mask were kept so you could squirrel the thing away, when you caught the familiar glowing blue of spotchka at the bottom of the larder. The horrible color made you _fucking nauseous_ after today, but even more distressing was that you realized it was just sitting there unsecured when there was an impish child onboard that could easily get into the bottled brew and make himself sick, or worse.

“Din, we need to put this somewhere safer.” You held the liquid lantern up for him to see what you were talking about. “What if our foundling gets into it? He might get really sick or-”

_“Our?”_

_Shit._ “Sorry, _your_ foundling. Your foundling might get-” Din crossed the small space of the cabin until he was standing close to you, the child in question tucked against his chest. The baby’s big, nebulous eyes glittered up at you, and you couldn’t help reaching out to rub his sail-like ears. He chirped happily at your touch, and as much as you wanted to keep your eyes on him, his father was towering over you, making you squirm under his tilted glare. 

“Say that again.”

“ _Your_ foundling.”

“No. The other word.”

“Our?” 

“All of it.”

“Our foundling?” His helmet cocked to the other side, doing his big metal bird impression. The arm that wasn’t holding the child pulled you up against his chest, squeezed right against the baby in question. The familiar galaxy-erasing hug made you realize how many times you had thought of the child as your own, he was _your_ little buddy, _your_ missing baby when he had been stolen away, _your_ secret weapon that you had hidden in your purse. But he wasn’t _your_ child, he was _Din’s_ , so for him to also be considered as yours…

_“Ours.”_ Above you the word was spoken like it was new, as strange on his tongue as Mando’a was to you. “ _Our_ foundling. I like that.”

You couldn’t turn your head up to look at the man who had you wrapped against himself so tightly, but you could smile at the green little child that was flashing you his adorable toothy grin. _You little fart,_ you thought with a laugh, _you’re gonna make me go all soft._ Almost as though the creature could hear your thoughts he squealed in delight, patting your cheeks with his fat baby paws. You let your arms circle around the boys that had made your life a roller coaster of emotion blasting through the endless sea of stars. It might be a hell of a ride, but you weren't ready to get off any time soon. The memory of the sands of Tatooine where you had been trying to forget the dangers of the universe was starting to fade away, replaced by the moment you were losing yourself in. You were happy to see it go, though your past self would be shocked at how comfortable you had gotten with a magic alien baby and a man with no face.

“Yeah… I like it too.” You hummed into the beskar, feeling Din’s arms tighten even more. You were glad he couldn’t see your face, because the lovely smile had vanished. _This is all going to end soon._ You buried your face in the tiny space between the foundling and his father’s armor, trying to ignore where the coaster’s rails ended. Only one stop left.

_Nevarro, here we come._


	6. Oathsworn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: Nothing super crazy, somnophilia, oral (m/f receiving, multiple times) lots of soft, gooey lovemaking, touch starvation. Super big roller coaster going from smut to fluff to ANGST to FLUFFY FLUFF and right back to smut. Long ass slow burn sorry.
> 
> A/N: This is the finale to Book One! I plan on writing more for them but I’m going to take some time to work on art for these first chapters and maybe write some oneshots. Thank you all for joining me on this wild, sex crazed, love fueled excursion through the stars! Hope to write for you again very soon!

> _Iron mistress, let me go._

Blaster fire flashed past the cockpit window, narrowly missing the Razor Crest before speeding off into the depths of space. The hunters had not been able to chase you into the densely populated city of Canto Bight, but now that you were trying to blast into hyperspace they descended on you like a pack of wolves. You had barely made it out of the atmosphere when the dogfight started, and without proper time to make calculations, your rustbucket would be torn to shreds if you tried to make the jump now. 

_One jump, just to get us to the nearest hyperspace route. One sector… start point Cantonica, two point one times… modifier of one…_

Math was not your strong suit, and trying to help Mando calculate the trajectory of your jump while being _fucking shot at_ was not helping _at all_. You could only remember snippets of fly-nav that you had learned on the flight decks of mighty star cruisers, but they had engineers and navigators and walls upon walls of equipment specifically for that purpose, and you kicked yourself for not paying more attention. The tiny navigation panel was just to the side of the pilot seat, and you were wedged in between the chair and the dash, trying to make your calculations without being in Mando’s way. 

**_-SHEOOP SHEOOP SHEOOP!-_ **

Shots sailed by so fast your panicked brain swore you could feel the heat of the plasma vaporizing your skin off from _inside_ the ship. The stars cantilevered over your window, Mando was throwing the ship into a spin, trying to shake them. 

> _Just a day, an hour or so._

The force of the inertia nearly tore you from the panel, but you dug your fingers like claws into the unforgiving durasteel dash, the lives of your crewmates depending on you. 

The Mandalorian flew the Crest like he was trying to beat the Kessel run, if he could just loop around fast enough he might be able to point the fore-cannons at your assailants; but your best bet was to lose them entirely. 

> _To touch the dreams I’ll never know_

You caught a look at the hunter’s ships as your dive turned sharply, putting Cantonica on your starboard side. They were small, agile things that could turn on a dime, but your captain was one with the Crest, rolling with her as he slammed down on the nav stick. 

_One hundred fifteen degrees relative to the galactic center, multiply by two point… Fuck, three point…_

_“Now?!”_

**_“NO!”_ **

_“Fuck!”_

A satellite screamed past you before exploding to pieces, its duty as shield fulfilled. The densely packed smear of stars where the galactic core was slid past your view as Mando jerked up on the nav stick, sending the gilded planet beside you soaring out of sight. _Not helping!_ But as he swung wide, just ghosting out of the way of another round of shots, you heard blaring from the navigation panel. _Coordinates located._

> _With your cold arms around me._

“Now! _Punch it!”_ No questions asked, a beskar plated fist hit the hyperdrive activator, and the stars blurred and streaked until they were a rushing river of light overhead. Heart in your throat, you watched the light distort and spin as you blasted through the wormhole on whatever course you had plotted. You were just waiting for the tunnel to end, to bring your equation to a sum and blast you to smithereens. The streaks kept going, and you nervously took your eyes off of them to look back to the soft orange light of the nav panel:

_Thirteen hours remain. Destination: Nevarro system._

You breathed a mighty sigh of relief and tried to pry your stiff fingers from the edge of the dash. Not only had you successfully plotted the course, you had also gotten the ship right on a one-jump route to the last planet on your journey. You leaned heavily on the wall, surprised at how hard you were breathing. The dogfight, the calculations, the danger, it was all too much to handle at once. You watched the spirals of light streaking past you out the window, just trying to find your balance when you felt a hand pat your back, making you jump. Behind you, Mando was leaning back heavily in the pilot seat, his chest heaving as hard as yours was. You nodded, unable to vocalize that you were alright.

“Good…good work.” Came a disheveled reply, his helmet nodding back to you. 

“Yeah… good flying.” You stood upright, trying to stretch your tightly-wound shoulders in the limited space. “Why doesn’t this hunk of junk have aft guns? We coulda just shot back.” 

“The Crest’s a dropper, she’s not built to _run_ , she’s built to _chase_.” There was an offended note in his voice, miffed that he had to defend his precious bucket of bolts. 

You shrugged, “Don’t mean you can’t have more guns.” 

“Careful, _cyar’ika_ , or you’ll get what you ask for.” The hand that was still resting on your back dug down into your belt line and yanked, pulling you backwards and tripping you right into his lap. The quick motion on top of the stars spinning above you made you dizzy, and you flailed a bit before his arms coiled around you. “Relax, womp rat.”

 _Womp rat!_ You ignored Mando, stretching out so you could see around his shoulder at the passenger seat where your little buddy was buckled in. His wondrous eyes were full of stars, a happy smile radiating from his face. He wasn’t even phased by _yet another_ near-death experience, it was all part of the ride as far as he was concerned. The baby threw his arms up in the air and squealed, ready for the adventure to continue. Satisfied that everyone was safe, you took another deep breath and let yourself settle in your comfy new seat. One beskared arm was over your legs and one around your back, holding you close to the plate of his chest. You were getting familiar with the broad piece of armor that he enjoyed squishing you up against, though it was still pleasantly strange to you that the fearsome hunter was such a hugger. 

“You’re _insatiable_.” You said, wrapping an arm around his neck, trying to ignore the pinch of the helmet’s edge. He only shrugged, playfully avoiding your gaze. 

“If you calculated our trajectory wrong, then we’re speeding to our death. Can you blame me for wanting to enjoy you before we die a horrible death?”

 _“Jerk!”_ You made an insulted face at him and slugged him in the shoulder with your free hand, earning a pretend _-oof!_ from under the helmet. “My math is _flawless_. And I’m not going out without my warrant cleared.” 

A deep sigh ballooned his ribs so fully that you were lifted up with them, then sank back down with its release. Neither of you had told the other how you were feeling about the impending end of the line, but the heavy sigh hinted that he might not be excited for it either. You wanted your name cleared, to go back to your life without the threat of hunters on your tail, but there was a sense of dread about it that had begun to fester. Your first contract of _‘one hunt and I’m gone’_ had turned into a demand to see Mando lie to Karga face to face. You originally weren’t going to trust him to deliver the fake-news of your death without seeing it for yourself, but as the bounties came and went you were piled on with a slew of emotions for the man who had failed in his mission to capture you as a bounty.

Your first encounter together had been a wild ride of bounty-capture-turned-partner on the sands of Tatooine, unintentionally engaging in each other’s primal desires before venturing out through the desert to catch bounty number one. What you hadn’t known in that moment was that the Mandalorian had secretly let you take his innocence, so enamored with your hunting prowess that he was willing to wager his creed on getting to have you for himself. The Way demanded that the one you first “gave” yourself to was now your soul’s keeper, and you were to be protected as if you held his life in your own two hands. _‘I’m not asking you to do the same, you’re not Mandalorian’_ is what he had said about it, knowing full well that he wasn’t your first, and that his creed did not apply to you. 

But as the hunts went on you started feeling differently. You worried that you had been so blinded by his many kindnesses that you weren’t seeing the danger you were in, but as each wild chase came to their conclusion and you found yourself in his arms, or his bed, you started getting defensive of the man that was supposed to be protecting _you_ . You’d nearly died on that very first hunt, and who would be there to mourn your passing? You had no parents, no siblings, no people. Sure there was the Guild, but fat lot of good they were, sending almost a dozen hunters after you in the last few months. They didn’t care about you, they only cared about _themselves_ , and how good they looked to their commissioners. No, the only one who would pick a shovel up to bury you was a faceless stranger from the stars and his alien foundling that he now insisted belonged to both of you. _‘Our foundling,’_ he had said, with the same dedication as he spoke of The Way. He’d given you his body, his name, and his son, but not his face. You accepted them all, and rewarded his gifts with affection and devotion. 

_Gifts._ Far below you in the bowels of the ship was a lockbox, its glittering contents hidden safely away. The pair of krayt’s fangs you had given him as a token of your admiration were received with awe, the armored hunter spellbound at your priceless generosity. He had only been given rewards for jobs well done, but never for jobs done _poorly._ The potionmaster that was bounty number two had poisoned his mind with a pheromone toxin, forcing him to take you in the middle of a hunt. His mouth had run rampant with praises and promises, every coherent thought on worshiping you as he filled you to the brim. The effort had spent him, and you were left alone to capture the quarry, chasing her with the fury of thunderstorms when you found your child missing. The charms you had picked up in Mos Eisley fit so perfectly in the triangular slots of his cheeks, and you gladly gifted them to him as a way of saying you forgave him, but you knew it would be quite some time before he forgave himself.

The next time you had seen them on him was when you were planning your capture of bounty number three. You had added them on as part of his costume to help sneak the two of you into the gilded heart of Canto Bight where your last quarry lay, and the way they caught the limelight had drawn your eyes to him over any other shining decadence. In the moments where you were regretting your choice of capture method, you desperately wished that the hands on your body belonged to Din, and not the slimy, _despicable_ Elios. When the frozen pools of moonlight had caught the city light in the darkness of the casino’s penthouse you had felt a surge of relief, though your bounty had felt a surge of the Mandalorian’s fist straight to his gross fucking face. Twice you indulged in each other that night, and the way your hunt-scarred bodies intermingled was given a new name: _make love._

You wondered now, as you sped through the warped cosmos, what would happen to those engraved, opalescent trinkets. He would have no reason to wear them again, flashy finery was a poor choice of attire for a hunter. Though he would most likely keep them, there was also a small chance he would sell them. Without you in his life, what reason would he have to save them? _Sentimental_ . That was why you had kept the red pocket square from your costumes, as well as the mask he had crafted for you to keep you hidden in Mos Eisley. Something to remember him by when you parted ways. _Would he even want to remember you?_

A wandering hand brought you out of your reverie, and you snapped back to the present. You had lost yourself in the streaking stars above, and you turned to look into the visor of your seat. His helmet was tilted towards you, but not quite _at_ you. On your leg his leather padded thumb was leisurely moving back and forth, the rough fabric catching on your canvas pants. You cocked your eyebrow at him, only marginally surprised that he would be feeling you up again so soon, but he didn’t move. Instead his chest rose and fell gently beneath you, and you realized he couldn’t see you if he had his eyes closed under the beskar.

 _He’s asleep._ Sitting upright in the captain’s seat, with you on his lap and having the threat of death not only behind you but ahead of you as well, he had managed to doze off. You must have been lost in thought longer than you realized. _He’s comfortable, sitting in the only safe space he knows._ You looked behind you to the passenger seat and found that once again you were the last one left awake. As much as you wanted to pull the baby to your lap, you didn’t want to disturb either of the sleeping princes. You sat up just a hair, just enough to glance at the timer on the nav panel, it’s dull orange light counting down to either your final destination, or a fiery end. Nothing you could do about it either way, the hyperdrive coordinates were set, and that was that. Might as well follow suit with your partner and enjoy each other’s company a little bit longer. 

You rested your head against the side of his helmet, the hard beskar pressing on your face and sides making a terrible pillow, but the comforts a hunter knew were almost always metal plated. A low, sleepy hum rumbled out of the modulator, and his arms tightened around you for the millionth time. You were able to rest a few hours in your snuggly perch, waking up every so often to glance at the nav panel counting the hours down. You had all the time in the universe, but you couldn’t shake the dread that haunted your senses. _Are you scared of death? No. You’ve danced with death every day. Sometimes more than once. Then what are you so afraid of?_

Hours later, pins and needles in your arm forced you awake once again, the helmet pinching you between his head and the seat had done a number on your nerves. You used your still-functional arm to pull his noggin just slightly forward so you could tug the useless thing out from under him. He groaned a bit, fingers tightening in your clothes to hug you to his iron body again, but there was a new piece of beskar jabbing under you now. _Really, Mando._

 _‘Insatiable’_ wasn’t a strong enough word for your partner, who even sound asleep was trying to spear you in the ass. You supposed it was only natural, his relaxed body would stop inhibiting blood flow to the sensitive area, resulting in the beef shank that was rutting up into you. You could just ignore it, it would soften back down eventually, but he had said so himself: _‘can’t blame me for wanting to enjoy you,’_ and a mischievous grin snuck its way across your face. You carefully pried his fingers from the bunched fabric of your clothes, then gently placed his arms back in his lap so you could let yourself up to stretch and shake the tingles from your dead arm. 

You rolled your shoulders and shook your hands, trying to get blood to flow back to your fingers. Behind you on the passenger seat, baby beans was tuckered out, and you took a moment to wrap his blankies up around him better so he would stay cozy in the cool, recycled air of the cabin. The nav panel flashed its countdown: _Nine hours remain._ Plenty of time, more uninterrupted time than you had had this entire journey. You stepped back over to the sleeping mountain, letting your hands coast down his shoulders. He hummed under your touch, the faintest snore following the pleased sounds. With your head pressed against his bucket in the nook of the headrest, you let your fingers wander over the beskar on his chest. The metal was cool against your skin, and you kept going until you reached where he ached most. This was going to be a fun, naughty game, you were going to see just how close you could get him without getting caught.

Starting slowly, you circled a fingertip over the tight bulge, and the faint gasp from the modulator made you worried that you had already failed your mission. But the rest of him didn’t move, and you continued, softly rubbing and pressing on the taut fabric. You felt him twitch under your fingers, the muscles of his hips trying to chase the sensation even from the realm of sleep. The canvas was struggling to contain him even while resting, and you carefully made your way to the zipper. Underneath the metal teeth his underwear were damp with precum, more than they probably should have been while he was unconscious. You hooked a thumb in the fly, working to ease the fabric over his tip without jerking him around too much. When he popped into view you couldn’t help but lick your lips, the last time you had tasted him had been rough and fast, but now time was on your side. Another lengthy sigh eased out from under the beskar, along with the faintest garble of your name. _Sweet, thoughtful murder machine, you’ll miss me when I’m gone._

Using your thumb, you circled the wet head, smearing the glimmering juices around his engorged tip. His breath hitched, and you froze, afraid you were going to lose the game early, but another rumbling snore in your ear told you he was still asleep. You pressed the softest, quietest kiss to the side of his armor, though you wished you were kissing at his face instead. You wrapped your hand around his length, slowly massaging his twitching cock until his hips were trying to roll in time with you. Soft sighs whispered from the vocorder, cheering you on. You made a quick glance behind you, just to double check that the eyes of the passenger were closed. _Still out, perfect._ You circled around to his front, pulling the corner of Din’s cloak over the armrest closest to the foundling for extra coverage. The space between the dashboard and the seat was barely big enough for its captain, let alone another body. You squeezed him gently before letting go, kneeling down so you could crawl into the open space beneath the dash. A needy whine echoed in the cabin, the sleeping hunter desperate for the return of your touch. 

You breathed hot steam against his length, making the thick spear twitch and shiver. Just the tiniest peek of your tongue slipped out from your lips to lick his skin, and another passive moan breezed above you. You almost wished he was awake, watching you as you ran your tongue up and down the flushed skin in bolder stripes. Where his hands still laid in his lap you could see his fingers twitching, grasping at the fabric of his pants for something to hold, but his sleeping mind fumbled with controlling the muscles of his arms. You ran your tongue up the shaft, following the thick, pulsing veins like a roadmap to your goal. The thighs next to your ears shuddered and tensed, demanding more of your affection. You reached the top, wrapping your lips around him and letting him sink all the way to the back of your throat. The helmet above you rolled, and you were certain you had lost, but his hands kept squeezing at the beskar plates of his legs instead of in your hair. _Too sneaky for you, tin man._

The taste of him was an addiction you didn’t want to break, sweat and salt and the rich, primal flavor of a _man_. You bobbed up his length, swirling your tongue around its head whenever it was close to your lips. The edges of your mouth were slick with precum and spit, letting him glide in and out of you with ease. You wrapped a fist around the base where you couldn’t quite reach, using your hand in tandem with your mouth. Precum flowed readily from the slit, and you greedily lapped it away. Above you the softest gasps leaked from the helmet’s edge, there was no way he wouldn’t wake up soon, and you sped up your efforts. The zipper of his pants didn’t go down far enough for you to release the tension on his balls, but you snuck your free hand into the tight fabric to brush through the soft fuzz of the sensitive spheres. Cupping and teasing them gently made broken Mando’a eek out of the hidden mouth of the man above you, and you felt the tendons in his groin starting to pull. You were going to win.

 _“Cyar-’i-ik-ka?!”_ Mando doubled over, his whole body jerking as he shot thick ropes of cum down your throat. His hands latched onto your scalp, forcing himself deeper down your throat where the fluttering muscles could milk him for all his worth. You reached a finger up to his helmet to signal him to be quiet, flashing your eyes at the sleeping figure on the seat behind him. He could only roll his head backwards to where you were looking, digging his fingers into your hair while you sucked him dry. You heard him hiss through clenched teeth, fighting the urge to shout the walls of the flight deck apart from their seams. When he had finished blowing his load into you, he fixed you with that black hole glare of his, and you imagined the wild-eyed look he must have under the beskar. You smiled around his length, shooting your tongue out to catch any errant drops that oozed past your lips. The armored thighs snapped around your skull, desperately trying to stop you from torturing the overstimulated flesh. Slowly, _deliberately,_ you lifted yourself from him, pressing a kiss to the throbbing tip before you wiped at your chin with the back of your hand. 

“Good morning, bucket boy. Sleep well?” His chest heaved, the breath so caught up in his throat that he could only glare at the shit-eating grin flashing up at him from between his legs. Leather-bound talons fought to untangle themselves from your hair until his soft palms were on your face, running his thumbs over your cheeks.

_“No fair.”_

You made a pouty face at him, patting at his thighs to get him to release you from under the dash. In his disheveled state he couldn’t figure out how to get his legs out of the way for you to clamber to your feet, and you hauled yourself up above him using his knees as leverage. 

“How’s that for ‘getting what I ask for’, hmm?” You hummed, kissing at the helmet’s edge, then pressing your forehead to his with a _bonk_ . You could hear him through the metal, his breath ragged in a way that he wasn’t prepared for, wildly confused at waking up to an orgasm instead of the navigations’ warning blares. “You owe me one.” You pulled your legs up and over his until you were free of the confines of the captain’s chair, sauntering off towards the ladder to find something to drink. The faintest glitter of eyes caught your attention, and you cast a glance at the passenger seat to where two cosmic orbs were squinting at you. You did a funny little wave with your hand before hurrying to the hatch, embarrassed that you might not have been as sneaky as you thought. _What can I say? I like your dad, kid._

Down below you fished a canteen out of the supply crates, reluctantly washing away the taste of your armored companion from your lips. Your little collection of personal items were stashed in the corner of the room, and you realized you would need to pack them up before you landed. You were getting tired of ruining your own fun all the fucking time. You pulled the bantha-wool blanket from the pile and spread it out on the floor, giving yourself somewhere comfy to sit while you fussed with your meager belongings. Picking up your backpack you shuffled the contents around, pulling the collection of broken fobs out so you could give them to Mando for him to present at the Guild outpost as proof of your demise. Nine in total, though you knew you were a couple short, it was still a heavy sum of lives that had been ended by your hands. _And his_. Din had picked off four hunters by himself in Mos Eisley, and you had added the fobs to your collection, smashing the flashers in to silence their pursuit. 

You weren’t sure where you would be heading after your mission was complete, you would have to get off Nevarro for sure, and you were thankful you still had a good handful of credits to pay for passage to somewhere else. Maybe Naboo, or the core worlds, somewhere different, distant, _alone_ . The last word made you stop. Alone. Anywhere you went would have to be _alone_. You never cared before, especially while you were a solitary hunter. But as you turned your droid mask over in your hands, the idea of being alone made your heart sink. Din would have the foundling to care for, but you were on your own.

_Our foundling._

Your eyes prickled, and you fought to contain the tears that came unbidden to their edges. _Our foundling._ How can he say that? That’s not _your_ child, as much as you looked at him as your own. You’re a stranger to him, a loose bounty, a _quarry._ How could he have given you so much to cherish when it would all be torn away? _Stupid girl, you were a fool to let yourself get so caught up in his life, falling in love with his son, falling in love with…_ Water splashed across the retinal casings of the stolen face still in your hands, and you became grossly embarrassed with yourself. _Hunters don’t cry, suck it up._

> _Iron mistress, let me sleep._

The sound of boots on the ladder made your heart try to jump out your mouth, and you quickly wiped at your eyes to cover your shame. The Mandalorian crossed the small space with soft steps, still light on his feet from your mischievous game. He waltzed over to where you were rummaging through your things on the ground, and stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of the pile of fobs. You couldn’t turn to face him, not yet. 

“I don’t know if I ever thanked you for the mask. Hope you didn’t want it back because I’m keeping it.” You said, but your voice was just above a whisper, your throat fighting to choke back the feelings you were trying so hard to kill. You weren’t sneaky enough this time, he had heard your strained words betray your broken heart. An armored knee dropped to the steel floor beside you and warm leathery hands were at your face, turning you towards the black gloss of his visor. You couldn’t meet his gaze, but the soft, hazy light of the cabin gave everything away, glittering in the corners of your eyes. 

“ _Cyar’ika?_ What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” His voice lost all steam, “I didn’t hurt you did I?” A pained laugh scrapped out from your lips while you shook your head. “Tell me what’s wrong.” The sincerity in his voice knocked all the strength from your heart, and the ugly sob you choked on sent a fresh flood of tears down your face. Without waiting for an answer you were pulled to his chest. _One millionth and one._ Din cradled you against his shoulders while the tears fell, streaking down his beskar. You couldn’t stop, every gentle moment you had shared together seared through your mind until they were burning your face. 

> _Between the watches I must keep._

On day one you had sang a makeshift lullaby to the child, and you knew your heart belonged to the tiny green baby from that moment on. More memories flowed like a river straight out your eyes and down Din’s shining metal plates. The blaster wound to your gut that he had patched up, and when he stayed with you through the night to watch over you. When he had put himself between you and the door when the hunters were bearing down on you, willing to risk his own life to protect you from their gunfire. The sweet moment you had briefly enjoyed as a pack at the campfire before it was obliterated, and the praises he sang in between the lust-laden filth that had spilled from his lips. Even the jealousy that you had unintentionally teased from him in the casino made your heart swell, nobody had ever become so lost at the idea of losing you before.

Above you Mando didn’t know what to do. You wept hard against him, and all he could do was hold on, trying to understand what had brought you to tears in the dark of the ship. The plates of his armor cut into your face, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away from them, their strength the only thing keeping you from crumbling to the floor. Your eyes were screwed shut, and you felt him doing something with his hands behind your back. When he pulled away from you, you let your eyes open, only to find the same darkness that was behind your lids erasing the cabin from view. The heavy thunk of a helmet hitting the ground echoed in the small space, and you were pulled back to him. Kisses peppered your face, trying to whisk the tears away from your cheeks. 

> _Let me know some other deep,_

“You’re ok. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” Din pressed his lips to yours, ignoring the taste of salt. “ _Please_ tell me what’s wrong.” The softness of his words and the warmth of his skin against you squeezed the confession from your soul like a constrictor making its kill.

 _“I don’t wanna go.”_ Hot embarrassment scalded your cheeks again, and another vicious sob caught itself in your throat, threatening to choke you with your weakness. The man in the dark leaned back away from you, and though you couldn’t see them, you could feel his uncovered eyes trying to bore through you. You wiped at your face, thankful for the darkness that protected you from his glare. Surely he would be disappointed in you, a mighty hunter, a hunter _killer_ , crying on the floor because you didn’t want what you had asked for on day one. 

_“Beep!”_

“Then _don’t._ ” His baritone words cut through you like a knife, spoken with such earnesty that you wondered how long he had been caging them behind the beskar, just waiting for the right moment to unleash them on the galaxy. “Don’t go, _ner cyare’se_ , stay.” His hands found your face again, now gloveless fingers brushing at your eyes. “I want you to _stay_ . Our foundling wants you to _stay_ . Stay with us, _please_.” You let him pull your head to his, pressing your brows together again, but you shook your head against his.

“ _I can’t!_ I’m putting you both in d-danger. T-they’re just gonna k-keep coming after me.”

“I’ll kill _every last one_ that tries to put their hands on you.” You knew by the hiss of his teeth that he was telling the truth. “You are _mine_ , _cyar’ika_ , nobody will try to capture you _again_ , I’ll see to it myself.” More ugly sobs forced their way past your lips until you were shaking with the tide of emotions that was trying to wash you away. _You could stay with him, raise the foundling together, he wants you here._ Strong hands cradled your face, pulling you to him so he could press kisses to every inch of your welted skin. His lips were like fire, burning away all the pain and sadness that grew in your heart like weeds. 

_“Beep Beep!”_

“I’ll stay! I’ll stay with you, Din, I… love you. _I love you!_ ” Confessions fell from your lips like rain, and you waited for their floodwaters to drown you. 

“I love you, _cyar’ika_ , from the moment I heard your starsong, I knew I wanted to love you.” The weight of his truth rang like a bell in your heart, and your tears of heartbreak turned to tears of joy. “I want you to see me, _cyare_. Are you ready? I’m going to turn the lights on. I want you to see my face.”

Everything was suddenly moving too fast, and you felt your stomach do flips like it was being chucked through the stars. You nodded against him, feeling the heat of excitement rush to your face. You were going to receive the last, and most precious, of his gifts. Your heart pounded in your chest, beating like thunder in your ears. He was still talking, but the noise in your skull was _deafening_ , the blood rushing in your ears was _raging_ , louder than human blood should be, louder and louder yet until it was _roaring!_ **_SCREAMING!_ **

> _Than the stars to which you’ve thrown me._

The howl of the hyperdrive engines threw you awake, and you held your breath as you awaited the inevitable. When a catastrophic explosion didn’t tear you atom from atom you let yourself breathe, propping yourself up on your bunched up bantha blanket. Your chest was heaving, burnt lungs sucking in air like you had just survived a hull breach. You clutched at your chest, trying to get your heart to stop breaking through your ribs. Sweat poured down your face and stained your clothes, the heat of your feverish skin stinging against the cold air of the cabin. Around you on the floor of the ship were the bounty fobs and the rest of your belongings, the droid mask streaked with tears. You looked around, the lights were still on and you were alone. You had been alone, as you knew you would be in the end, having cried yourself to sleep on your pile of memories. 

_A dream. It was all a dream._

“We’re here.” The voice was coming from far above you on the other side of the ship, its speaker still seated in the pilot’s chair where you had left him. You pulled the mask from the floor, using the edge of your sleeve to wipe away the remnants of your tears before setting the banged-up thing on your head. _A crown fit for the queen of fools._ The legs that you had chased bounties on like a warhorse now betrayed you as you tried to pull yourself to your feet. You were _exhausted_ , yet you had probably slept longer on the floor than you did when you were still in his lap. Your eyes hurt, and you could feel their puffiness trying to blind you as you stumbled through the hazily lit cabin towards the ladder. Rung by rung you pulled yourself up to find your seat. The child was still in his blankie cocoon, and you scooped him into your lap to buckle both of you down for atmospheric reentry. He gibbered up at you, eyes full of hope and wonder, a far cry from what you knew your face looked like. His sail-like ears tilted and drooped when he met your eyes, reaching a fat baby paw up to pat your cheeks. _You see right through me, don’t you?_

You cleared your throat, though you knew Mando was lost in the art of rocketeering, his fists closed tight over the steering controls. “Did you sleep here the whole way?” Your voice snagged, and you felt your throat snap closed. _Shit._

“Yes, I didn’t want to disturb you after you left.” _Phew, bullet dodged._ “Did you get some sleep?”

“Yeah.” You lied, feeling the weight of reality crushing your chest. _None of that happened? It was all a dream?_ You could still taste him on your lips, so you knew _that_ happened at least. You remembered now why you were so bad at fly-nav, even though it was a necessary evil for star-travelers, hyperspace messed with your head. Time dilation and interdimensional travel gave you weird dreams, paired with the emotional turmoil you were trying to fight against and your heart was lost to the streaking stars above, taking you with it as it tried to drown itself in their celestial whirlpools.

The lump of charcoal that dominated the transparisteel window made your heart sink even deeper. Nevarro was dead ahead, hot red veins of lava coursing over its charred surface gave it a pulsating, infected appearance. It looked like something that needed to be put down, put out of its misery instead of looking like the vibrant, living world that it really was. The smoky atmosphere streaked past the window as you descended, black rivers of ash and steam coursing like blood past your view. The Razor Crest shuddered as she struggled through the thick air until you were far enough below the smog that you could see the parasitic city that bore the same name as its host, springing into view. 

Mando took the ship in slowly, and the way the jagged lava fields stabbed upwards towards you gave the appearance that the ground itself was trying to claw the old ship down from the sky. From where you landed you could see the half-buried city, the ebb and flow of tectonic plates slowly trying to reclaim it back to the molten core from which it grew. At this distance the only buildings you could clearly make out were the crumbling archway and the dome of Karga’s cantina. Tight leather fists gripped the steering controls, making creaking sounds echo in the tiny space. Mando hadn’t turned to face you yet, the void of his visor pointed dead ahead at the last mission. You hesitated, then reached a hand out to lay on his shoulder, watching the way the tight coils relaxed at your touch. 

“What’s the plan, Din?” His name always got his attention, and the helmet cocked sideways at you. He caught a glance at your face, and his breath hitched in his throat.

“Are you ok? You look like you’ve been-”

“I’m fine!” _Liar!_ “I, uh, got into the spotchka… Last minute nerves, y’know? Makes my eyes puffy” The tilt of his helmet told you he didn’t believe you either, but he wasn’t going to argue with you any further. He turned his attention back towards the creeping city.

“I know you want to see me talk to Karga, but if you walk into that cantina every hunter’s fob in town is going to light up like blaster fire. I know you don’t want to, but you would be safer if you stayed in the _Crest_ . I can take a holo-corder for you, if you want.” He spoke matter-of-factly, not even a hint of emotion from the faceless figure. Demons in your heart whispered your dreams back to you, _‘stay, he said stay.’_ but you hissed them back down. _Liars, the lot of you._ You agreed with the Mandalorian, knowing he was right. Nevarro was lousy with rival hunters, and you guessed that the dozen or so you had run into were just the tip of the bloodthirsty iceberg. 

“Alright, but you better catch every step of his happy dance, ok?” You reached for his hand, locking your fingers between his to pull the metal backing to your brow. His arm halted your motion, and you felt ugly disappointment before his other arm came around his front to wrap around the back of your head and pull you to his helmet. _Kov’ninyr._ The cool of the beskar against your face gave you chills, but they were replaced with a surge of warmth that you never wanted to fade. 

“I’ll come back as soon as I’m done, just don’t leave the ship until I do.” You nodded against him, letting the hand that wasn’t still tangled in his fingers reach to the back of his head and pull him against you harder. It took every ounce of your battle-hardened heart to keep your composure, prickles in your eyes threatening to unravel you again. 

Below in the hold you rounded up the broken fobs, stuffing them into your now-empty backpack so he would have something to connect the pile of busted gadgets with to your death. You told yourself you could pack your things up when he returned, but the likelihood of you seeing that bag again was pretty low. _Oh well, time for a new one anyway. New chapter, new packpack._ You were doing everything to paint your mind with happy thoughts, you should be _excited!_ No more Guild, no more looking over your shoulder, or starting yourself awake to check your surroundings. _No more Mando_. You shook your head, everything ended eventually. The Mandalorian you had traveled with on a wild journey through the midnight sea slung one ratty strap over his shoulder, tucking it behind him so it wouldn’t be in the way while he situated the foundling in his floating pram. He went to press the button on the wall that would lower the ramp, but stopped and turned to you. His helmet crashed against your skull, so hard that you almost saw stars, but his arms were on you again, pulling you in close to drive the point home. 

“I’ll be quick. I Promise.” 

Inner demons nipped at your insides again as you watched him lower the ramp and begin the march into town. You pulled your mask down over your face and pressed the button on the wall for the ramp to close. Though you were alone, the safety of the metal on your face brought you the smallest shred of security. You wanted to go up to the cockpit and watch your armored companion as he made his way into town, but closing the thick shielding on this pre-Imperial rust bucket would look suspicious, and anyone could see you through the window, mask or not. So you were stuck down below, laying on the cot that you had spruced up to be somewhat comfortable. There was nothing else for you to do now but wait, alone, in the dark, with only your thoughts for company. _Yay._

A man with a face no one had ever seen crossed the jagged lava flats of Nevarro, followed only by his floating foundling and a miasmic air of mystery that clouded the eyes, and judgement, of any who saw his approach. His heavy armored boots crunched through the obsidian gravel all the way to the archway that threatened to crumble with every volcanic shift. Under the cultural protection of beskar was a man hidden from all, but a man nonetheless. A man that was full of emotions he’d never experienced at the same time, making his nerves burn like live wires under his skin, and he was thankful for the quiet composure the traditional covering offered him. Nervousness, fear, _excitement, anticipation_. In his ears the sound of his own heartbeat thundered like the magma that raged far below his feet, with the same furious threat to burst to the surface and consume all in its path. He stood under the archway, straight ahead he could see the domed cantina where he handled his Guild business, but he turned away from it and down one of the many alleyways that pocketed the low buildings. Mando knew the labyrinthian streets well, and he knew the best way to get to their underbelly. There was someone he needed to speak with first, and it wasn’t Karga.

* * *

You were getting antsy, it had barely been a half hour, and you knew that there would be a good deal of pomp and circumstance before any kind of business got underway with good old Greef Karga. Anxiety kept you restless, and you struggled to push your ill-begotten thoughts out of your mind until you were humming to drown out the sound of your galloping heart. Humming turned to whistling, and whistling turned to song. 

> _“Iron Mistress let me go! Just a day, an hour or so. To touch the dreams I’ll never know, with your cold arms around me.”_

You knew better songs, happier ones, but you felt imprisoned inside the Crest, and the harrowing words had haunted your hyperdrive visions, a wailing poltergeist bound to your broken heart.

> _“Iron Mistress let me sleep! Between the watches I must keep. Let me know some other deep than the stars to which you’ve thrown me.”_

You squeezed your hands over your eyes, trying to squish the tears back down that tormented your face. _Fresh air, you need fresh air._ Unable to stay locked in the suffocating confines of the ship any longer, you got to your feet and started holstering up. You just wanted to open the ramp, just to swap out the recycled air for something fresher, but you knew you might still be in danger. With a blaster on each hip, you strode to the panel on the wall, hovering over the button that would open the door. _Should I? No. Probably not._ You let your hand fall away from the panel and paced a few laps around the cabin. _‘Don’t leave the ship until I get back’_ You weren’t going to _leave_ , not yet anyway, not til you got what you came for. _Just… crack a window. Just a bit…_ You reached for the wall…

* * *

Far below the streets of Nevarro the heavy steps of a hunter echoed in the hollow tunnels of the sewers. These tunnels had once been full of his kin, but his errant mission to rescue his foundling from the Imps had driven them all from their homes. All but one. 

Blue forge light illuminated the corridor where the bronze plated warrior smelted her beskar. The _alor_ of his lost clan was still hard at work, diligently collecting and cleaning the last remnants of his people, stripping the paint from the abandoned helmets and melting down the rest. She had insisted on staying put, even after the Imps had decimated her clan and chased her children to the stars. The once-proud matriarch had been reduced to a ghostly captain, still clinging to the remains of her sunken ship. By habit, the silver Mandalorian knelt at the small table that blocked the entrance to her domain, awaiting her audience.

“Why have you returned to me, Mudhorn?” Her voice cut like sharpened beskar, resonating with the authority that she carried on her fur mantle.

“ _Alor,_ I-”

“I am no longer your _alor._ You are your own _alor_ , as designated by your signet. Your clan is small, but it is still yours to lead.” Her level voice made him uneasy, though once it had brought him solace. He had forgotten that he was a clan leader now, even if it was only a clan of two. “Speak, as my equal.”

“Alo-” He cut himself off, racking his brain for a new word. _“Ruusaan_ , I- I need to talk to you.”

* * *

 _‘Nobody listens in this crew’_ , you had thought to yourself, deep in the woods of the violet moon, _and that includes you!_ You couldn’t be patient, could you? Just for an hour or so! _Oh no_ , you had to go and open that access ramp, and instead of the sulfus daylight you were greeted with a half dozen Guild porters that had come to collect the carbonite slabs from the hold. They knew they were there for _four bounties,_ as listed on the _Razor’s_ manifest that had been drawn up when Mando left Nevarro in the first place. When your face popped up on their holos they drew their blasters on you, an errant bounty that had escaped her cuffs. You surrendered, hot rage building behind your eyes again as the IG escorts stepped forward to disarm you and shackle your wrists. Your droid mask was torn from your face, tossed to the ground and stomped on, the sickening crunch of the retinal casings nearly throwing you into a rage, but you were outgunned and outmanned. _You’ve been sold out_ , you realized with an aching heart, the snarl of inner demons matched by your own bared teeth, _you’ve been betrayed_.

* * *

“She could not have known the significance of such gifts,” The forgemaster said, turning the iridescent teeth over in her hand, “if she is not Mandalorian.” Din only nodded, awaiting the judgement of his old _alor_ . The intricate fossils had never made it back to the lock box after that night on Canto Bight, instead he kept them in the breast pocket of his flak vest, underneath the beskar of his chest plate where no blast would touch them. You had designated the pair of teeth as lucky when you gifted them to him, and though he knew you meant they were lucky for _you_ , he saw it in reverse. They were _his_ lucky charms, protective talismans that you had bestowed upon him as a show of your affection. He had then tucked them away as close to his heart as he could, letting himself believe that they could mean so much more. He knew you didn’t know much about his heritage, but he still convinced himself that the precious jewels held the deeper meaning known only to the Mandalorians. “To decorate your helmet is a sacred act of betrothal, and with such fine gifts as the fangs of a mighty beast, she brings you great honor. You must have made quite the impression, but are you certain of her intentions?”

He nodded again, but under the beskar he was sweating bullets. You had no way of knowing that by pressing them to his metal face you had unintentionally asked him to marry you. He had been lost for words at your gesture, afraid that if he told you their secret you would rescind them, or even worse, leave him. Even after everything that happened in the purple forest, you had still stood guard over _his_ broken body, rescued _his_ son, and then presented him with _those_ . You had seen through all his faults, and still chosen _him_ . When you had asked him to wear them again, to you they were just part of his costume, but to him they marked him as your territory the way the matching pocket square marked you as his. _She might not be certain,_ he thought to himself, _but I am!_

“Then choose your bestowment.” The warrior queen gestured to the wall of empty helmets. They had been polished to the same chromium shine as the helmet he wore now, but their visors were more empty than he remembered them ever being. He couldn’t decorate your beskar if you didn’t wear any, and though you were not of Mandalorian creed, you could be gifted armor if you accepted his proposal. Fond memories of the droid-face you wore came to him, and though his dislike of droids was still deep set in his heart, he had loved the way it gave your face a sense of cunning and strength. Heat flushed to his cheeks when he remembered reaching up to close its iris apertures so he could remove his helmet without forfeiting his creed, and he had been given the grace of knowing the taste of your skin. _And then some_ . There was a particular metal face that caught his attention, it had large, rounded eyes and a narrowly pointed chin. It was similar to the droid-mask, but it was made of _beskar_ , not durasteel, and he pointed at it without a second thought.

“That one, but just the faceplate of it. She won’t want to wear a whole helmet.”

“A fine choice, I shall replicate the _buy'ce_ and prepare for the ceremony. Return to me when you are ready.”

The bronze Mandalorian turned away from the table where the silver one waited to be dismissed. As he left the ruins of the convent he had to stop himself from skipping, _this was happening!_ The foundling had behaved very well during the transaction, and the giddy hunter reached out to squeeze his son’s hand. “What do you think, kid? You think she’ll say yes?” The baby gibbered happily at his papa, and Mando decided that meant his son agreed. “I think so too! I hope so, anyway.” The binding ceremonies of his people were… _complicated_ , at best. _And downright deadly at worst._ He didn’t care, he was going to give himself to you in the fullest sense, if it was the last thing he did. It was now time to clear your name, and Mando made his way to the outpost where the last roadblock lay. 

In the smoky haze of the cantina, the most fearsome hunter in the parsec made his way through the crowds of rookie hunters to the Guild agent that he was most familiar with. The weaker trackers moved out of his way as if the beskar would leap from his body to snap their fragile necks. Karga sat at his usual table, swilling a glass of spotchka around in one hand. When he saw his favorite hunter approach he rose so fast he nearly knocked the table over. 

“Mando! You’re back! Good hunting, I trust?” Karga beamed at the armored hunter, patting him on the shoulder as a greeting, a little too roughly for his liking. “And magic baby! Hello magic baby! Have you been a good boy for your pawpaw?” The foundling cooed at the silly man, making little grabby motions with his tiny clawed hands. Greef waved at the baby again before retaking his seat. Mando took his familiar place in the booth, pulling the backpack he still carried from his shoulder and dumping the pile of busted fobs onto the table. Karga gave them a confused look, raising his eyebrows at the impressive pile. “Mando, I don’t remember giving you this many, where did you get all these?” An answer was given in the form of a bounty puck placed on the table, and the projection that glowed in the dim light of the cantina shone back with an image of your face.

“They’re not my fobs, they’re _hers._ She killed all the hunters that were chasing her, and she would have killed me too.” The Mandalorian tilted his head slightly, behind the visor he was struggling to piece together the lie as he went, but his beskar face disclosed nothing. “I chased her through the Dune Sea on Tatooine, and she ran right over a sarlacc pit. This is all that’s left of her, she’s dead.” Karga’s eyes shot wide.

“Dead? Hyperspace must be messing with your head, my friend! This mighty hunter-killer was pulled from the _Crest_ not a half hour ago, and from what I heard over the holocorders she had gotten loose from her cuffs!” Karga looked out the window towards where the _Razor_ was parked. “You’re lucky she didn’t steal your ship, Mando, but the IG units took care of everything! They even got her loaded onto the transport ship; let me get you your cred-”

Din had heard _enough_ , he jumped up from the table to follow Greef’s gaze to where the _Crest_ was parked. A squat transport ship was parked nearby, it’s engines already up and running. He pushed the child’s pram into Karga’s hands “Watch the child! If you put _one mark_ on him, there’s nowhere in the _galaxy_ that you’ll be able to hide from _me! Understand?!”_ Karga nodded, taken aback by his sudden babysitting responsibility and the desire to not die. Rookie hunters were thrown to the side as the living locomotive plowed through the crowded room and out into the dusty streets of Nevarro, the fires of his Rising Phoenix bursting to life. 

Rather than take you to be processed at the cantina with the other bounties, you were marched towards a small, single prisoner transport carrier. The squat, rounded machine looked more like a tick than a spacefaring ship, but you were goaded towards it at the ends of pulse rifles shanking you in the back and threatening to zap you unconscious. The ship’s engines were still running, it would waste no time at all at making its scheduled delivery of its single cargo. Inside, an astromech sat at the controls, and it turned to you as you were led to the solitary cell, its projector flashed to life; and the face of a distinguished looking Togruta flickered up at you.

“Prisoner number R-7-0-4-2, you have been arrested for crimes against the royal family of Shili, and have been found guilty of harboring a fugitive and evading arrest. You will be transported to detention planet Karthon to fulfil your sentence.”

“ _Fuck you_ , scrapheap!” You hollered as the IG unit slammed the door shut on your cell. _Shit balls of fucking hell!_ The tears came again, and you gritted your teeth to stuff them back down where they belonged. _No! You’re tougher than that!_ But you didn’t want to be. You had lost _everything._ You’d lost your freedom, your partner, your foundling. _Everything!_ You clawed at your face and _screamed,_ the strength of your lungs making the durasteel walls vibrate in defiance of the engines that rattled away outside. You released everything with your roar, letting the tears flow freely for the first time, ignoring the feel of the ground falling away beneath you. _Din, I’m sorry! I never got to tell you how I felt! I-_

**_Thud!_ **

Something heavy hit the exterior of the transport ship, followed by the sound of the bulwark being turned from the outside. You watched from your cell door as the exit hatch was ripped open, and a black and silver body hauled itself inside. 

“ _Mando!_ Get me out of this fucking thing!”

The armored hunter went straight for the pair of droids, blasting them both full of holes and ripping the IG-unit’s control arm clean off. Without the droid to pilot the ship, the transport unit lost control and began its descent, spiraling back down to the volcanic planet’s rocky surface. Struggling against the inertia of the spin and the ferocity of the raging winds, he stabbed the droids severed arm at the locking mechanism, springing you from your cell. 

Beskar plated arms wrapped tightly around your middle, and the two of you flung yourselves out the open door into the sulfurous haze of the Nevarro sky. Toxic air whipped at your face as you fell, your stomach trying to stay back in the abandoned ship, threatening to toss your breakfast. You screwed your eyes shut and buried your face against the familiar chest plate, squeezing your arms around his neck so tightly you worried you might choke him. His grip on you was like steel, and the sound of his jetpack soon drowned out the sound of the rushing air, blasting you both safely towards the ground. The transport unit beat you to it, exploding into a glorious fireball on the lava flats below. _There would be no survivors._

The sound of his boots on the rocky soil told you it was safe to open your eyes, but you were unable to pry yourself from the material of his cloak. Din’s arms still held you like a fortress, though you guessed it wasn’t from your flight down to terra firma. You had allowed yourself to believe that he had sold you out, but the crushing weight of his embrace told you that the demons that plagued your heart were telling you lies yet again. 

“You came back for me? I thought you had…” You let the accusation of treachery die on your lips.

His visor snapped to meet your eyes. “I’ll always come back to you, _cyare_ , I am yours, after all.” His helmet rested heavily against your brow, and something he said to you came wafting back through your mind. Like the _Razor Crest_ herself, your Mandalorian wasn’t built to run, he was built to _chase,_ and he would chase you to the stars if he had to. The heat of the nearby crash began to singe the hairs on your arms, and the two of you made your way together across the lava flats to the cantina where your foundling was being safely kept. 

Your formidable duo barged through the cantina doors, and the remaining hunters scattered at the sight of you, one mighty armored warrior and a blast-burnt berserker, barks matching their rabid bites. Victoriously, you strode to where Karga sat, his eyes wider than the baby’s that he had in his lap. The child caught sight of his caretakers and lit up with a happy gibbering squeal, waving his fat little paws in the air for uppies. You reached for your little pal, scooping him off the frozen Guild agent and into your arms where he belonged. Mando brushed his palm over the baby’s fuzzy head before sitting down in the booth to discuss business, his silver helmet snapping to face Greef.

“Karga, _nobody survived that crash,_ got it?”

“Nobody died on it either, Mando, it was all droids except for her.” The Guild agent’s voice was very full of itself, and you heard the old crook cough when your armored protector fixed him with a dark glare. “Alright, alright! No survivors. You got it.” Karga leaned towards you, the icy shine of his smile a sharp contrast to the warm tones of his face. “Since you’re dead now, you should consider changing your name to something else, young lady. Oh I know! You could be _Mrs. Mando!_ Bwahaha! Wouldn’t that be funny?” _Hilarious._

Greef exaggerated wiping a tear from his eye, enamored by his own joke. Next to you your hunting partner stiffened, it was just a slight movement, one that anyone who didn’t know him would have easily missed, but between you and the agent it was clear as day. Greef puffed up with mock indignation, hand on his chest like it was trying to catch his escaping heart. “ _Mando!_ Why didn’t you tell me? I better be getting an invitation!” He looked down at you, noticing the way your brows knit in confusion, then glared back at the mountain of metal. “ _She doesn’t know either?!_ What kind of game are you running here, Mando?”

You very much wanted to know the answer to that question as well, but the man who had just sprung you from jail nudged at your side, prompting you to get up. You pulled your empty backpack from the table, happy that you were going to get to keep it after all. The three of you left the cantina, the child floating along behind you in his hover-crib, little baby hands waving bye-bye to weird uncle Karga. Din had one arm wrapped strongly around your waist, pulling you tightly up against the side of his chest, and you did the same around him. You were surprised that he was so brazenly holding you to him for any and all to see, but from the way his hand gripped at the bottom of your ribs you guessed he might never let you go again. He’d nearly lost you _again,_ this time to the bounty that had led him to you in the first place. 

He guided the two of you through the blackened streets past storefronts that were still under construction from when the Empire tried to raze the city to the ground. You tucked down through alleyways until you were led down a staircase and into the dark of the sewers. The long, creepy corridors smelled of sulfur and brimstone more than anything, and as your party made its way silently through the darkness you started to see a faint blue light up ahead. The archway of the new area was emblazoned with the same mythosaur skull you had seen painted on the side of the Crest, the ancestral signet of the Mandalorians as a _people_ , not just of a single man.

Ahead, a propulsion engine had been turned over and repurposed as a forge, and its blacksmith was hard at work with the metal in her calipers. Mando skirted the pair of you around a low table that blocked the entryway until you were in the antechamber with the new Mandalorian you had never seen. She was _awesome._ Though she couldn’t have been much taller than you were, she towered with the authority that she carried in her shoulders, demanding the respect of all who stood in her presence. The eerie light of the forge reflected like sapphires on her bronze helmet and lit ghostly fires in the reflection of her visor. _She could kick my ass any day._

“Are you ready to proceed?” Her voice was low and strong, it made you feel _small_ but not in a bad way; like you were a lost child returning to your mother. _Ready for what?_ Beside you your metal man nodded and squeezed your side before letting go of you. He crossed the room to the gilded matriarch and took something from her outstretched hand, pressing them to his face. _The krayt teeth._ The opalized fossils glittered in the forgelight as the Mandalorian you were most familiar with turned back to face you. The warrior woman spoke again, her voice resonating with power, “Din _Djarin,_ kneel.” 

_Oh, he has a last name, good to know._

“Din? What’s going on?” You felt your heart try to choke you with its attempted escape out your throat while you watched the mighty hunter sink to his knees before you. “Why are you on the floor?” Beside you, the warrior queen was pushing something into your hands, and you found yourself holding a long beskar sword. No vibro in this one, it was _solid_ , icy blue comets of reflected light streaking up its blade. It was _beautiful_ , but what the _fuck_ were you supposed to do with it? The matriarch read your mind, and answered you coldly.

“The man who kneels before you has chosen you to be his _riduur_ . You will now ask him to swear his oaths to you, and should they please you, you may remove his helmet. But should he _dishonor_ you,” both of you turned your eyes on the shining blade you now wielded, “you may remove his _head_. This is the Way.”

“ _WHAT?!_ Din what does that mean? What the fuck’s a rid-oor? What’s going-” your panic was stopped by a pair of gentle hands reaching up from the floor to carefully take yours without knocking the sword from your grasp. 

_“Cyare.”_ The softness of his voice made your breath hitch and sent fresh tears to your tired eyes. “You’ve fought honorably at my side for some time now, and now that it’s time for you to go… I- I don’t want you to. At least… not without me?” His fingers gave yours a gentle squeeze before returning to lay on his bent knees, the void of his visor locked to your eyes. “If…if you find me worthy, I would… I would like to stay by your side, _mesh’la_. Til the stars fall from the sky, if you’ll have me?”

_Stay._

Your eyes were wide as saucers, tongue dry in your mouth and sweat beading on your brow. Blood raged through veins, trying to tear your insides to ribbons. The butterfly larva you carried in your chest squirmed and clawed at your lungs and threatened to rip your ribcage open with a storm of fluttering wings, and the demons that ran rampant through your mind rode the sickly things right out your mouth.

“You don’t even _know me_ .” Your voice squeaked out past chapped lips, a meager draught of air compared to the screams you knew you were capable of. “And I don’t know you! I’ve never seen your _face_ , I just learned what your whole _name_ is!” You waved the sword around to enunciate your words. “You don’t know where I’ve been, what I’ve done!” The blade flashed in your hands, dangerously close to the man kneeling before you. “You’re not just doing this…” You glanced at the other warrior, and leaned in closer to Din to whisper, “You’re not just doing this because we had sex, are you?”

Those weren’t the answers he was expecting, and his leather bound hands fidgeted in his lap while he worked to put the words he wanted to say together. The kneeling hunter sighed, long and deep, and shook his head. “No, _cyar’ika_ ,” he hummed from the floor, “I _do_ know you. I know you love the thrill of the hunt, and the light of the stars.” He spoke with a reverence you had never heard, especially from someone so fearsome. “And I _know_ , without a doubt in the galaxy, that you love our foundling.”

_Our foundling._

“I’ve seen you care for that child as if he was your own, and viciously defend him with your life on the same day. I’ve seen your strong arms hold him close to you and rock him to sleep, the same arms that I’ve watched you use to bury blades into your assailants.” His shoulders loosened, letting his helmet tilt slowly while he spilled his heart to you. “And your _voice!_ Thunderstorms _cower_ at your rage! And yet you can _sing!_ From the first time I heard your starstong, when you sang to our foundling, I knew that I wanted to _know_ you, to _know_ what it meant to _love you_ , right then and there.”

The claws in your guts sank deeper, bringing your hyperspace premonitions crashing back to you. _You’re dreaming again, it’s too similar, you have to be._ An ugly sob tore through your throat and sent tears streaming down your face for the hundredth time today. You wanted to believe him, you wanted to tell him that you felt the same, but the distrust you had sown in your own heart poisoned you and made you afraid. Afraid of letting yourself be loved. Afraid of loving something that would be torn away from you eventually. Din straightened his back on the floor in front of you, believing that the anguish that poured from your face was his fault; that you were displeased with his affections. His hands that had fidgeted in his lap rushed to his neck, pulling down the tough canvas that protected his throat to bare it to you. 

“If you do not find me worthy, _cyare_ , then it would be an _honor_ to die by your hand!”

The sight of his skin in the flickering light of the forge drew your eyes, and you remembered the blade that you still carried. You swung the point of it up until it rested on the bottom of his helmet, forcing him to tilt his head back farther for you to make your kill. Demons could tell lies, but could they swear oaths?

“Din _Djarin_ .” You bit down on the sound of his last name, not convinced that you hadn’t made it up yourself. Beskar scraped together where your blade met his armor, its wearer breathing hard. “Do you _swear to me_ to protect me with your life?”

_“Yes.”_

“Do you _swear to me_ that you will stand by my side through every hardship?”

_“Yes!”_

“And do you _swear to me_ ,” you slid the edge of the blade up against his skin, not enough to break it, but enough to feel him swallow hard underneath its edge. “That you will _never_ lea-” You struggled on the last vow, your breath catching hard in your throat. Air escaped your lungs, and you fought against your fear to draw breath. Nothing came. You dropped the blade and clutched at your throat, you were _suffocating_ . _Was your fear so strong that it could strangle you?_ Still on his knees, Din reached to try to help you, doing a double take on the far corner of the room. 

“No! _Stop!_ Stop, it’s ok! Don’t hurt her!” You followed where he was looking with your darkening eyes to where the foundling floated, his giant eyes closed and his little paw up in the air the same way you had seen him lift the Ardennian from the trees. The frantic pleas of his father got his attention, and precious, life-giving air flowed back to your lungs. You fell to the ground, gasping, and you realized the last time you breathed this hard was when you were awoken from your fevered dreams that hyperspace had given you. But as the oxygen returned sight to your eyes, the room didn’t change. This was real. You were really here. 

Soft leather hands reached out to you, steadying you while you desperately gasped for breath. You let your forehead rest against his, the cool of the beskar calming your nerves. You cast your eyes on the foundling again, who was watching you with eyes like moons. _He got scared_ , you realized, _he’s just a baby._

_Our foundling._

Carefully you rose to your feet, using Din’s outstretched arms for support. You walked to where the pram floated, looking down at the child that you adored, though he had just tried to kill you to protect his father. But since he was _your_ foundling, would you expect anything else? His little ears drooped, and you guessed he might feel guilty for trying to hurt you. You smiled down at him, rubbing your thumbs over his long green ears. “Heya booger,” you whispered, “You don’t really think I’d hurt your papa, do you?” His massive ears perked up, and a tiny toothy grin shone brightly up at you, smiting the last of your inner demons. “C’mere, let’s do this _properly_.” You scooped the baby up as you had done so many times before, and crossed the room to where the distraught hunter still knelt, the intricate rituals of his heritage preventing him from standing during the ceremony. His hands were still reaching into the space where you had been, trying to follow you themselves while his legs kept him grounded. You stood in front of him again, but this time you weren’t alone, the glittering eyes of the foundling shining from your arms. 

“ _Din Djarin_ .” The sound of his full name flowed like a song from your lips now, and he snapped straight to accept your oaths. You would not be needing the sword again, and you left it where it lay on the floor. “Do you swear to _us_ to protect _us_ with your life?” 

_“Yes.”_

“Do you swear to _us_ that you will stand by _our_ sides every day, through every hardship?”

_“I do!”_

“And do you _swear to_ _us_ , Din Djarin, to never leave _us_ behind?”

_“I do!”_

You took a moment to wipe away a tear that had splashed onto the tiny baby’s head, but it was replaced almost immediately by more. They were pouring down your face, but they were no longer the tears of anguish, they were tears of joy. You kissed the baby’s damp noggin before carefully handing him to his father. Din took his son gently, brushing a thumb over the top of his head to try and dry him off. The baby gibbered happily, patting the opals that still shone in the forgelight from his father’s metal face. Your hands joined the baby’s at Din’s cheeks, and you heard his strained breathing from under the helmet. You looked into the visor, raising your eyebrows, and he nodded in your hands. He was ready to give you the last of his secrets.

With shaking hands, you wrapped your fingers under the unforgiving edge of the helmet, the sharpness of it nearly cutting your skin. You knew it was heavy from the way you’d heard it hit the floor of the ship, but now that it was in your hands it felt like you were trying to lift the weight of the universe off of his shoulders. Slowly, carefully, you lifted the beskar from him. Both you and the baby watched with unblinking eyes as the first inches of the man underneath came into the light. 

The long, muscular neck that you had pressed your blade into came into view, followed by the edge of his chin. _Scruffy_. The dark fuzz that you had seen on his body grew in thick tufts on his chin and jaw, and you were a bit surprised to see the occasional silver hair catch the light between the many darker ones. Inch by inch the light met his flesh, and the soft lips that you had pressed yourself to in the dark of the Crest caught the shine of the fire. You had to stop yourself from trying to kiss them again, remembering when you had tilted his helmet back in the towers of Canto Bight and lost yourself in their softness. 

The helmet was halfway off him now, and the bottom of his nose stuck out from the beskar. Between it and his mouth were a line of bristles that brushed at the corners of his lips. _Hairy. Are you sure you’re not unmasking a wookie?_ You paused there, the weight of the helmet along with the weight of your actions making your arms tense. The next thing that you would see would be his eyes.

“ _Cyare,_ please.” You jumped at the _sight_ of him speaking, the words he poured over you never had lips to read, but they were bare now. White flashes of the teeth that he’d once sank into your skin flickered behind his fuzzy lips, bringing strength back to your arms. All or nothing.

You yanked up, pulling the heavy bucket free of its wearer. Your eyes were locked to the visor of the severed head in your hands, and you fought with your orbits to tilt your gaze downward. 

_Maker fucking help you!_ The biggest, _deepest_ , most dark chocolate pudding flavored eyes you had _ever seen_ glittered up at you, shining with tears. You tried to set the helmet down gently, but it fell from your hands and rolled away into the dark. You had to be hallucinating, under all that unforgiving armor and leather and _weapons_ was the most handsome man you had _ever seen_. His features were soft between the angles of his jaw and well-defined nose, passionately sculpted by the Maker xerself. The top of his head was thick with dark brown curls that arched down his face and connected with the line of scruff, hanging heavy over his forehead with the dampness of sweat. Every one of his features lead your eyes right back to his, and you couldn’t help but stare at the dark honey pools that glimmered under his long lashes.

“I know, I-I’m probably n-not what you were hoping for…” His voice was just above a whisper, suddenly feeling vulnerable without his armor. You blinked, now realizing you had been staring. His bashful eyes looked away from you and down to the baby that was still in his arms. The foundling squealed with joy, and your heart surged with fullness, he had never seen the hidden face of his father either, and you were thankful that you both got to experience this precious moment together as a family. You shook your head when the spoken words finally sank in.

“ _What?_ No! You’re _beautiful,_ Din!” You laughed, bringing your trembling hands up to cradle his face. He twitched visibly at the sensation, unfamiliar with being so exposed, but melted right into your palms with a long, warm sigh. Though he had praised you for your beauty, nobody had _ever_ been able to return the favor. “You’re so _beautiful,_ so _gorgeous_ , so _handsome!_ ” You kissed his forehead, then each of his damp cheeks, and finally his plush lips. The heat of his skin sent fire through your veins and singed away every last doubt that had tried to grow from your heart. You sank to your knees with him, leaning over top of the foundling to press yourself to his lips harder. “You’re _everything_ I was hoping for!” The roar of hyperdrive wouldn’t tear you from each other this time, this was real, and the lips you were still trying to kiss split into a huge grin, stunning you with his perfect smile. 

“ _Ner cyare,_ my love, I…I love you! Do…do you f-find me worthy of your h-hand?” 

_Sweet, thoughtful murder machine. “Yes!_ Yes, tinman, I do! And I love you, too!” You pressed your forehead to his again, wrapping a hand around to tangle in his dark brown curls. You heard him stifle a happy sob, thankful that you had accepted him at his most vulnerable. Suddenly you realized that he had sworn oaths to _you_ , but you hadn’t sworn anything to him. _That won’t do._ “Din.” You met his lovely, doe-like eyes, “Din, I _swear to you_ to stand by you on every hunt, no matter where the tracks lead us.” His eyes flashed wide at you, a fresh stream of tears on his lashes. You wiped away the drops with the pad of your thumb, but they came faster than you could clear them. “I _swear to you_ to come back to you every night, never seeking the arms of another.” A broad hand came up to pull your face closer to his where he could kiss you again, peppering your cheeks. “And I _swear to you_ ,” you reached between you to the child, wrapping your other hand around the baby’s small body and locking with the strong fingers of his father, “that I will protect you, _and_ our foundling, ‘til the bitter end, if I have to!”

Against you the man you had let sweep you away to the stars started _laughing._ Warm, melodic bursts between happy sobs that lit your heart up like fireworks until you were laughing with him. In the corner of your eye you caught movement, and though you would rather drown in Din’s tear-filled eyes, you glanced over to see what it was. Beside you, the warrior queen was pulling the shining beskar blade from the floor where you had discarded it, brushing it off with her heavy gloves. She carefully tapped the point of it to each of your unarmored crowns, his, and then yours.

“ _Riduurok_ . May the consummation of your binding bring you many warriors.” You rolled your head forward until you were squished into the crook of his neck, trying not to crush the foundling while you hid your red flushed face. _Of course that’s what she would wish us. We’re going to have to talk about that later._ “Your _riduur_ has chosen a fine gift for you in the event that you accepted his proposal and spared his life.” There wasn’t a single thing more you wanted from the man you were clinging to, just to be with him above all else. Reluctantly, you turned from the sanctuary of his shoulder to see what you were being offered. 

In her mighty leather hands was a mask, its silver beskar shining with the ghostly forgelight that reflected on its curving surfaces. It was similar in shape to the droid face you had been given to wear through Mos Eisley, but this was the real deal, not a piece of scrap metal. The face of it had long, sloping curves that went from the checks to the pointed chin. Its eyes were large and rounded, not buggish like your mask had been, this thing was _elegant_ . Not elegant like jewelry, elegant like a _weapon_. You turned it over in your hands, admiring the craftsmanship of the gift. It had a magnetic attachment system on the back, you would just have to wear little cuffs over the backs of your ears to keep the thing in place instead of the wire strap you had gotten used to. The finishing touch was emblazoned on the brow, a mudhorn insignia shone brightly back at you in the firelight, the signet of your clan.

“Do you like it?” Din asked, his eyes full of timid curiosity under his raised brows. 

“No, I don’t _like it_.” You reveled in the way his eyes shot wide, suddenly terrified that he had already disappointed you so early in your binding. “I love it!” He breathed a broken sigh of relief, and you could visibly see the tension in his shoulders drop. “Fooled you, didn’t I?”

“That’s not very nice of you, _ner riduur_.” He pushed kisses to your cheeks again, unable to keep himself from the feel of your skin against his. 

“Well, get used to it, you’re stuck with me now!” You kissed him back, then turned your attention down to the wiggly baby that was still squished between the two of you and pulled him up to your face so he could get kissed too. “Hear that, Beans? You’re stuck with me!” Your little buddy threw his hands in the air and squealed, excited about the new addition to his family. Din’s arms wrapped around the child so you could try on your new mask. You hooked the magnets around your ears and set the beskar to your face. It was much lighter than you anticipated, and the weight on your ears was barely noticeable. The visor blinked to life, and a slew of sensory equipment fired across your eyes. Too much at once, you pushed the mask up to the top of your head, it slid easily around its pivots without too much force, but you would need time to adjust to the internal scanners. 

“It looks n-nice on you.” Din was watching you fondly, his cheeks pushing up into his eyes and making their edges crinkle. _Smile lines. Beautiful_. He hauled himself to his feet, reaching down to help you up off the floor with him. You bent down to pick up his helmet from where it had rolled away, and as much as you didn’t want to hide his lovely face again, he would need it on to walk back through the city streets. You lifted it to place the crown back on your king, but he stopped you. “Not yet. We can stay here tonight, if you want to?” He looked nervously to the matriarch, worried that he’d overstepped his boundaries. 

She nodded, “I would be happy to watch your foundling while you consummate your union. I expect you to bring me _many_ younglings in the future.”

Your face burned like it was going to melt off, and you were thankful when Din pulled you back to him where you could hide from the bronze warrior’s encouraging words. His lips were all over you, kissing his way to your ear. “There’s beds here. Real ones.”

 _Insatiable._ You laughed against him and nodded, a real bed! And one you wouldn’t have to sleep alone in ever again. Din passed the foundling off to the matriarch, who looked back at you with a glare. _Sorry booger! Be back soon._ With his arms now free, the Mandalorian who you had chosen to walk the stars with bent down and scooped you up in his arms to carry you over the threshold of the forge. Your arms were too full of his helmet to do anything about it, but he held onto you with ease, your weight going unnoticed in his strong arms. The long lonely corridors didn’t feel so empty to you now, they were full with the warmth that radiated between the two of you. As you moved through the dimly lit halls, you kept flashing your eyes to the man who literally swept you off your feet. In the darkness only his outline was clearly visible, his strong profile catching the street lights high above you wherever you went under a drain. You still wondered if you were dreaming, _he’s so fucking pretty! How can he be that fucking pretty!?_ The pair of you made another turn, this time into a low stone room with many empty beds, probably once his kin’s sleeping quarters, but now the only ones left to use them were you. 

“This one used to be mine.” Din stopped at the foot of one of the beds and let you down onto it, but now that you were up close, the word ‘bed’ didn’t really fit; and you realized now why he was so comfortable sleeping in the cot or the chair on the _Crest_ . The low stone slab had a single sheet and a large, heavy fur on it, but nothing else, not even pillows. _They sleep in their helmets._

“Sigh-air, we’re going to have to talk about what a ‘real bed’ is, because this is not it!” 

“I’m sorry, _cyare_ ,” he corrected, “Do you want to go back to the ship?”

You didn’t answer right away, instead you squeezed his arm and pulled away to round up the sheets and furs from the other beds. “Nobody’s using these, right?” You tossed the fat stack on the bed that Din had picked and pushed them around into a thick nest. “There! That’ll work.” You crawled up into the soft pile of furs and turned to face him. “So, rid-oor, you gonna join me?”

“We are going to have to work on your Mando’a.” You laughed and shook your head, scooting on your knees to the foot of the bed where he still stood. 

“I want to see the rest of you, Din _Djarin_ .” You reached your hands up to his chest, running your fingers over the beskar that protected his heart. You watched his face, and you could almost imagine the helmet still being there with the way his head tilted; his neck muscles had grown so used to it being there that they didn’t know what to do when the weight of the bucket wasn’t holding them down. You ran your hands back up the armor, and his hands followed yours as they rose to cup his face. The way his eyes fluttered shut was _hypnotic_ , but you didn’t want those chocolate swirls to disappear just yet. You pulled him down to kiss him, and the heat that crashed against your lips burned with righteous fire, but you pulled back away, flashing him a mischievous smile. “You want more? Take your armor off, or _I_ will.”

Dark eyes rolled back at you, and his sweet scruffy face turned upwards in a sneer to match your own. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Are you _challenging_ me, hunter? I’ll have you know I can strip a bantha in fifteen minutes flat, I’ll peel you open like a tin can!” He swung his hands wide, challenging you further with a raised eyebrow. “Alright, bucket boy! You’re on.” You grabbed him by the belt and hauled him to you, making quick work of the leather that strapped his body and tossing them to the floor. He kept his hands to himself, but you could see him fidget in the corners of your eyes as he fought to keep them off you. You fished under the edges of his pauldrons, keeping your eyes on his to watch the way his honey pools swirled darker as you worked towards your goal. Nimble fingers found the latches under the beskar, and the emblazoned plates fell to the ground, one after the other. Following his shoulders to his arms, you ran your fingers to his leather tips and pulled each glove off, tossing them somewhere in the room. Vambraces fell off shortly after, clattering to the ground. Chestplate was next, and you were already getting tired of all the shit you were having to dig through to find him. “How do you get dressed in the morning? This is insane.”

He shrugged, “Just used to it.” Flak jacket fell away, and he was left standing in his black knit undershirt that you had first seen on your own body, though the one you had worn had been shredded apart by the first bounty that you had hunted together. 

“I yield, you can take the rest of it off yourself.” 

“As you wish.” His eyes twinkled in the dimly lit room, and he planted a kiss on your forehead before working the rest of his clothes off. You should have just let him do it in the first place, he knew how to take everything off from repetition, but you would have to get practice in one way or another. He hooked a thumb in each of his suspenders and pulled them down off his shoulders so they hung at his side, and in one swift motion pulled the black shirt up and over his head. You gasped at the chiseled body standing before you, feeling him in the dark of the ship had been a treat to your hands, but _seeing_ him in the flesh was a feast for your eyes. There were more scars than you remembered, streaks and splotches of shining flesh littering his bronze body. They caught the light like medals of honor, harsh reminders of his many battles, both won and lost. You couldn’t keep your hands off of them, letting your fingers wander over each gash and burn, trying to imagine what had dealt such damage to his lovely body. He stiffened under your intense examination. “I-I’m sorry, I know I’m a mess, aren’t I?

“Stop talking down on yourself, it’s unbecoming of a rid-oor.” You fixed him with a glare that you had learned from his visor, and smiled when he cocked his head at you. “Din, _everything_ about you is beautiful.” You kissed the scar closest to you, sending goosebumps from where your lips met his skin prickling across his bare torso. “I love this one, and this one, and this one.” You pressed kisses on each one that you could reach, and warm hands floated to your shoulders so he would have something to keep him from falling over, the heat of your lips stealing the strength from his legs. “Take your fucking pants off, I want to see if there’s more.”

“Mmm… not yet, _cyar’ika_ , you’re overdressed. Allow me.” The hands that rested on your shoulders coasted down over the fabric of your tunic, careful not to linger too long on your breasts before finding the edge at your waist. The rough duraweave was pulled up and over your head, exposing your chest to the cool air of the dorm. After he tossed the discarded shirt into the growing pile of clothes on the floor, he brought his hands back to your soft skin, running his calloused fingers over your collar bone until he found your breasts again. You couldn’t tear your eyes off of his, spellbound by the way his dark eyes shifted between each of the supple mounds he held in his hands. He caught you staring at him, and a boyish smile turned the edges of his lips upwards, “Y-you’re very beautiful, _mesh’la_.”

“Is that what mesh-la means?”

“Mmhmm…” He hummed, running his thumbs over your hardening nipples. “ _Beautiful_ .” The fountain of praise that was his mouth leaned forward to kiss you again, thirsty for more of its source. The feel of his tongue trying to find yours made a warm shiver flow down your spine and pool in your belly, and you laughed to yourself that he wasn’t the only one of you who could be defined as _‘insatiable’_ . He nipped at your lower lip before breaking away to finally obey the command you had given him, taking a moment to undo the button and zipper of his pants before pushing them down. The bronze skin of the man you now called your _riduur_ shined like the new dawn, warm and radiant. You let your eyes wander over every bare inch, from his broad muscled shoulders to the fuzz covered slopes of his abdomen, following the dark brown treasure trail to your prize. His hands moved to cover himself, torn between _wanting_ to be seen and embarrassed at _being_ seen. You scowled at him, waving your hand like you were a lounging czar, demanding the next round of entertainment.

The sigh he let loose could have shaken the walls of the convent down around you if it was any louder, and he let his hands fall away at your command. _Wookie_. Though you’d seen his cock before anything else on his body, the sight of it still made you blush. He stood at half mast, the nervousness of presenting himself to you in all his naked glory still trying to win over his strength. You bid him closer where you could wrap your hands around his length, the heat of your palms making the muscles in his thighs quake. 

“ _Cyar’ika_ … You’ve already drained me today, I-I don’t know if- _ahh!”_ You silenced him with your mouth, pulling him onto your tongue for the second time that day. His body went rigid at your touch, but his hands tangled in your hair and pulled you off of him. “No, my love, I owe you one, remember? Let me care for you first.” 

_Good man._ “Alright, bucket boy, if you _insist_ .” You leaned back on the pile of furs, raising your legs for him to pull your boots off. One heavy muckboot clunked to the floor, then the other before wide palms snaked their way up your legs to the hem of your pants, digging fingers in deep to pull them off in one go. With you now as bare as he was, he ran his hands back over each leg, massaging at your calves and thighs, chasing his hands with his lips to press kisses to the muscles that bore the might of a hunter. Diligently he worshiped one leg, then the other, sparing not a single inch of your skin from his affections. Rather than press his face to your heat where you knew his intentions lie, he followed up over your tummy, kissing from the breadth of one hip all the way across to the other. The scrape of his bristles on your tender flesh had you curling your toes behind him, and you grabbed at his dark locks to tangle yourself in their curls. _“Din…please.”_

“Mmm?” He leaned against your chest, honey-dark eyes glittering up at you from between your breasts. “What’s wrong, am I being _mean_ to you?” He kissed at the warm mounds that framed his lovely face, dragging his chin over your feverish skin. “Tell me.”

You pulled a mock face of insult at him, “You learned that from _me!_ ” His chest rumbled on your belly with a poorly hidden laugh. Kisses dotted up to the hard tip of your breast, and you arched your back when he sucked your nipple deep into his mouth, the shimmer of dark eyes trained on your face to watch how you squirmed for him. He sucked at the sensitive bud, running his tongue in tight circles around the hard bundle of nerves. _You’re getting too good at this, tinman._ The faintest scrape of teeth made your body jerk, and a rough arm dragged itself over your side until it was resting on the dip of your collarbone. A calloused thumb brushed at the sides of your throat until it was resting on the base of your jaw, letting the rest of his fingers curl around neck. Another arm squeezed underneath of you until you felt like you were being bent in half by the strength of his grip. With you unable to wiggle away, he nibbled at your teat, sending waves of hot fire searing through you until the apex of your thighs felt like it was going to combust.

 _“Messsh…’laaaa”_ He hummed with his mouth still full of you. “Tell me what you need.”

“D-down… down f-further.” Words escaped you, his lips sucking all your vocabulary away. He released your tortured tip, scooting down to your belly. 

“Here, _ner riduur’ika?_ ” He kissed at the soft warmth of your tummy, dragging the hand that had laid on your neck down to tease the breast he had forsaken.

 _Jerk._ “F-further… _please_ Din…” His beard made your skin prickle with goosebumps as he continued his journey, taking all the time in the world to answer your pleas. He pushed his chin into the intersection of your hips and thighs, but with his weight still on your legs, you were trapped under him. 

“Please _what?”_

“Please _make love_ to me!” You were losing your patience, the fire in your loins being stoked so hot it was burning you alive. Your oathsworn obeyed, lifting his weight from you so he could push your legs up and spread you out beneath him. His fingers met your heat first, pushing one strong digit in and upwards, rubbing against the patch of nerves that was hidden deep inside. You wanted to watch him, but the sensation made your eyes flutter and you gave up, leaning back onto the bed to let him have his way with you. A second finger was added, pumping in and out of you to get you ready to take his tongue, but if he kept this up you wouldn’t make it that far. Your walls clenched around him, the muscles of your coils tightening in tandem with his thrusts. He could feel you getting close.

“Nuh-uh, _cyare_ , not yet.” Sunken fingers pulled quickly out into the dim light and disappeared again into his greedy mouth, sucking the flavor of you from his skin. “Mmm… you taste _so good_ , my love.” As much as you wanted to give him sass, you were only able to rock your hips side to side, trying to entice him to bring you your release. He pressed his face to your hot entrance, breathing warm breath at your swollen cunt and making you buck towards his open mouth. The smooth muscle that slithered out from between his lips ran from the bottom of your slit all the way up until it flicked at your clit and made your entire body convulse. He hummed at the taste of you, the vibrations of his throat adding to the rolling of his tongue until you were gasping for him. One agile hand left your thigh to push up into you, putting pressure on the space behind your clit and forcing the tiny nub harder against his lips. He sucked and licked, alternating between push and pull until you had claws in his hair, begging him to finish you. 

You felt him squish his face into you harder, the strength of him shifting you higher up the bed, but you were too lost in the stars streaking behind your eyes to notice. The ragged cries you let out into the night echoed in the long empty chamber as you unloaded yourself into his mouth, shaking while he sucked every drop from you. He couldn’t stop, driven by the hunger of his love to eat you alive until tears pricked at your eyes from the overstimulation. You dug into his hair and pulled, trying to stop his ravaging feast. Between your legs his half-lidded eyes met yours, and you knew you weren’t getting off that easily. He spared your aching clit, but your pussy was free game, and he burrowed his fingers into you again with quick, hard strokes. The cum you had made for him streaked over his fingers and down your thighs, making a mess on the pile of stolen furs below you. “One more, _cyare_. Let me feel you come for me again.”

The lust-laden command sent you over the edge, clenching so hard around his fingers you worried you might break them, but he was Mandalorian, and you would have to try harder than that to dissuade him. Slowly he pulled himself from you, running his fingertips along your blooming heat to collect every spent drop before using your release to slick himself up. You watched with heavy eyes as he ran his glistening hand up his length, coating himself in your sweet juices. _So much for ‘already drained’_. His eyes were closed while he felt himself up, lips turned upwards in the faintest snarl, and you realized he was waiting for your permission.

“ _Lover_ , come here.” Dark eyes snapped open at the new term of endearment, and he stuffed his body between your legs without another word, but he couldn’t resist teasing you just a little longer. The head of his cock smeared over your slit with each pump of his hand, bumping against your sensitive nub each time he reached the top. _“Din.”_ You hissed, and his teeth flashed sharply above you before he sank his cock into you, bottoming out on the first thrust. You were stretched wide around him so tightly that you could feel the pulse of his heartbeat from inside of you briefly before he pulled back out, taking a moment to adjust where his knees were on the bed before slamming back down into you. 

“ _Fuuuck, cyar’ika_ , you take my cock _so well!_ ” Above you his face was screwed tightly, trying not to let himself come undone too early. The mess you were making of him was _primal_ , his face moved and twitched with each thrust. He was panting, and the light on his lips and teeth caught your eyes like the krayt’s fangs that once sparkled in the double daylight of the Tatooinian bazaar, drawing your gaze like magnets. The feverhaze of your mind wondered if that’s how he always looked under the beskar, enraptured in the depths of your love making. His hips sped up, locking his hands to your thighs, trying to chase his own release. 

“Wait!” You gasped, lifting a hand to his chest and earning yourself a confused whine. 

“What? Am I hurting you?”

“No, I’m fine! Just, I wanna flip over, have you behind me.” He cocked his head at you, making it easy for you to imagine the visor that usually hid his face. He slumped back onto his haunches, pulling himself free of you while you worked to sit up. Strong hands found yours and pulled you to him so he could kiss you again, the taste of you still fresh on his lips. You licked into him deeply, making him groan into your mouth before pulling away and propping yourself up on all fours. Between your legs you reached down and spread your wet pussy open for him, and the growl that rumbled behind you made every hair stand up on the back of your neck. “Like what you see?”

“More than you could ever know.” His hands squeezed at your ass, pushing his thumbs up into your folds to spread you out even further, sending a fresh hot wave streaking over your cunt. You were expecting his cock, but when his mouth pressed into you again you almost fell flat on your face. He was _greedy_ , lapping away at the sweet nectar that you made just for him until your head was spinning and your thighs shook underneath you. He sucked hard at your clit, making you whine into the soft pile that was holding you up. Fast strokes had you quaking in his grasp until lightning crackled through your spine and spilled out of you onto his face, before quickly being licked away. He mumbled alien praises against the backs of your thighs and up over the swell of your ass, kissing his way upwards until he was poised behind you. Your _riduur_ slid back into you easily, burying himself to the hilt in one swift stroke. The harsh cadence of his hips against yours split you in half with the girth of his cock, echoing loudly throughout the stone chamber. Behind you the sound of ragged, filthy groans punctuated every thrust, the strength of his fingers gripping your thighs the only thing holding you in place while he made good on his promises to bring you the stars. 

Warm hands slid from your hips underneath of you to your breasts, kneading and tugging on the heavy drops. Pressure shifted from your chest to your neck, and deft fingers pulled you upwards until he could reach the crook of your shoulder with the bottom of his chin. Hot breath steamed at the shell of your ear, followed by long strings of Mando’a that made your skin prickle. 

_“Ner nau'ur, ner me'suum'ika, ner jate'kara. Ures gar, ni ramaanar d’werde.”_

The words were punctuated by the nip of teeth, catching on your earlobe and the soft skin of your pulse points. It wasn’t long before those sharp canines of his were sinking into your flesh, leaving blooming welts that marked your skin as his territory. His pounding fell out of time, and you bore down on him to keep him inside of you while he let himself loose, the roar of his orgasm so loud it almost hurt your ears. Hot spunk coated your insides, filling you to the brim until it oozed out the junction of your bodies and down your legs. The claws on your neck and chest were like steel traps, keeping you in place so he could enjoy the flood of your mixed cum surge around his cock with every pulse of your still fluttering insides. 

His legs bent at his waist until he was in the same kneeling position that he had professed his love to you in, letting your hips rest on his strong thighs. As always, he was unable to keep his roving hands still, and the edges of his nails dragged lightly over the skin of your back like you had done to him on the beaches of Cantonica. Your overworked nerves sent bolts of electricity from his scratches firing over your skin like a full body orgasm, and you coiled your walls around his spent cock, making him convulse from the sensation. You leaned back on him fully, enveloping his length again.

“Tell me what that meant. I’ve never heard any of those words from you before.” He wrapped around you, letting himself soften in your furnace, pressing kisses to the side of your face.

“You are my light, my moon, my guiding stars. Without you, I die in darkness.”

 _Poetry._ You melted at the adoration of his words, hugging the arms that coiled under your breasts. His heavy head fell against you, pushing into the crook of your shoulder where he had left his claims. His body was hot against your back, the rise and fall of his chest steady and rhythmic compared to your broken panting. You rolled your hips against him, letting him fall out of your heat with a fresh wave of warm passion that ran thick down your thighs. You wanted to stay wrapped up in him until the universe imploded, but the cocktail of releases that was streaking your legs cooled fast, and the urge to clean yourself off won over.

“Din, I don’t suppose there’s freshers down here somewhere?” You squeezed his hands to release you, then rolled onto your belly and then to your back, careful not to kick him on accident. Behind you, your _riduur_ looked like he had just survived a typhoon, hair and body both soaked with sweat and sweetness. His dark chocolate locks fell to his eyes with the weight of his efforts, and he ran a broad hand through them to clear his eyes. _Maker fucking help you._

“There is, and I’ll show you, but only if you let me join you.”

 _“Deal!”_ You propped yourself up and scootched over to him on your knees, unable to stop yourself from kissing his beautiful, sweatstreaked face again. His chest rumbled at your touch, and he pushed his forehead against yours in the deepest gesture of affection that his culture practiced. The sweat of his brow stuck to you, driving the point home that a wash was desperately needed. You walked arm in arm to the fresher, the strength of your love the only thing keeping you from falling over after such exertion, giggling like younglings at your foolishness. The freshers were private, multi chambered things to preserve the secrecy of the Mandalorian creed, but there was plenty of room under the running water for two. The water smelled faintly metallic, unable to escape the fire and brimstone of Nevarro even while you were indulging in its most opposite element, but the bars of your favorite soap made it bearable. _So this is where it comes from._

Standing together in the fresher under the water was an experience you had been secretly imagining since the first time you borrowed the _Razor’s_ teensy tinsey bathroom nook that he had so generously offered you. Warm water flowed through your hair and down over your shoulders, and broad hands followed the path of the droplets that coursed over your skin. You didn’t like water in your eyes, but you squinted through your wet lashes at your shower buddy. He looked like he had just risen from some enchanted river rather than from between your legs, and you let your hands wander over his chest so the water ran between your fingers. You pulled him to kiss you, tasting the volcanic heat of his lips. Without pulling yourself from him, you fished for a bar of soap, and he jumped when the slick bar touched his bare back. 

“Is this ok?” You asked softly, rubbing the soap over his well muscled shoulders til it was sudsy. Din’s heavy brow crashed against you with a groan, and you took that as a yes. He leaned heavily against you while you diligently scrubbed at his scarred flesh, wrapping his arms around you to try to keep himself from slipping down the drain with the bubbles that ran off his back. The pads of calloused fingers dug into your own back, trying to reciprocate the sensation you were blessing his aching muscles with. You hummed against him, spreading your feet out to support both your weights better. The soap coasted over his body where you could reach in your locked position, down his sides and around the tops of his hips. His scratchy face rubbed against your cheek, torn between the desire to kiss you and the need to not let himself fall over. You lathered up your hands, setting the soap down on the ledge before working the suds into his thick locks, amazed that he could get his hair to look so damn good with just one type of soap. “Keep your eyes closed.”

Din couldn’t open them if he tried, blissed out of his mind at the feel of you scrubbing at his scalp, washing away the weight of the beskar that subjugated him every day. Finished with your scrub, you guided him back under the running water, working the soap from his hair with your fingers. 

“T-thank you, _ner riduur_ , I… I really liked that.” He kissed your forehead, “Can I try?”

“Only if you tell me what rid-oor means.” You had already figured it out, after everything that had occurred in the forge, but you wanted to hear it from him. He sighed, warm and strong, before reaching for the soap.

“ _Wife. Ner riduur_ means you are _my wife_ . The word itself means ‘spouse’, regardless of who is bound by the _riduurok_ .” He glided the half-spent bar of fresher goodness over your chest and shoulders. “I am also your _riduur_ , I am your _husband_.” You didn’t have to open your eyes to hear the smile that hugged those words. “I am bound to you, as you are bound to me, and I can only hope to bring you honor every day.” You braved opening one eye under the water, just enough to get a look at him. Half-lidded chocolate depths followed the trace of the soap over your skin, and a wistful smile turned the corners of his lips. He caught you peeking, and the bright flash of his teeth made you giggle. 

“I don’t think that’ll be too difficult for you, buckethead.”

He faked a scowl at you, “Buckethead? You don’t get to call me that anymore, _cyar’ika_ , you’re a buckethead now too.”

“ _Excuse me_ , that’s _Mrs. Buckethead_ to you, good sir!” Laughing, you splashed him with water, throwing off his gentle washing rhythm by forcing him to defend his eyes from your onslaught. “Have at you!” Water and soap bubbles flew from hell to breakfast, both of you fighting over who got to take water from the showerhead to throw at each other until you were both laughing in eachothers arms again. 

Once you were both pruned from being wet for so long, you both begrudgingly left the fresher to dry off. The same grey-brown towels that you had found on the _Crest’s_ sink that first day were folded in alcoves in the wall, more than enough for the two of you, and you made a mental note to steal a couple extra when you went back to your Iron Mistress. You left the fresher area to go find your clothes, and nearly died when you spotted the bronze armored warrior sitting on one of the bare beds, playing with your foundling.

“I could not help but hear the conclusion.” _Fucking fantastic_ . “So I am returning your foundling to you. He should be with his _buir_ .” Din rounded the corner from the fresher, but ducked quickly behind the wall, though the matriarch had officiated the _riduurok_ , he was still bound by creed to hide his face. You pulled his helmet from the floor where you dropped it along with his heavy canvas pants, tossing them to him. Half-decent, he strode to where his foundling was waiting.

“Thank you, _ruusaan_ .” Your Mandalorian thanked her, but the gilded warrior simply nodded and left as quietly as she had arrived. You flopped down on the bed, cheeks burning from the dead-pan tone of the matriarch that told you this was not the first time she had followed up with a _riduurok’s_ completion. Din brought the baby over to your bed, laying down beside you with the foundling squished between your warm bodies. The child rolled and cooed, enthralled to be with both of his adopted parents. 

“Din, what’s boo-ear mean?” He pulled his helmet back off, setting it down on the floor next to where your mask lay, looking like two silver stars that had fallen down from the sky. 

“ _Buir._ It means parent, or caregiver. A child can have one _buir_ or many. It is the same term we use to care for foundings,” He placed a hand on your belly, rubbing it slowly and making you flush crimson, “or younglings.”

 _Hoo boy._ “Din…I don’t know if I’m ready for more than _this one_. Our foundling is enough of a handful for me right now.” His hand continued to trail over your skin, but he nodded at you with sleepy eyes.

“When you’re ready, my love, I will be, too.” He pressed a kiss to your lips, then kissed the little green baby that you had sandwiched between your bodies. The child’s enormous ears flopped akimbo from his smushed spot, but his nebulous eyes drifted closed anyway, leaving behind the smallest smile on his princely face. Your husband turned his own glittering eyes to you again. “Tomorrow I want you to pick a star from the sky, any one you want, and I’ll bring it to you. I think we deserve some time off, don’t you?”

You nodded and hummed in agreement, letting the weight of your lids drag themselves closed and pull you towards dreamland. You felt a strong arm burrow under your head, and another lay over your side, careful not to squish the precious foundling that so gracefully tied you all together. _Maybe Naboo,_ you thought sleepily, _or the core worlds, somewhere different, distant…together._ The last word brought a tiny bit of wakefulness back to your eyes, just enough to glance at the two sweet things that had recently carried you off to the stars. _Together._ Anywhere you went, anywhere you made harbor in the shoreless sea, you would always, and forever, be together.

_This chapter is dedicated to my husband, who brings me the stars every day._


	7. The Most Dangerous Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Book Two, Prologue 
> 
> Content warnings: Absurd amounts of domestic fluff, Mando and Reader being adorable, killing Imps for fun, sex outdoors, a smidge of voyeurism, dirty talk, praise kink.
> 
> A/N: This chapter is the springboard for the rest of book two, though it was mostly just an excuse for me to write them being cute together before I chuck them back into the nuclear disaster that is a hunters life. Enjoy!

You didn’t need to open your eyes to know that you were being watched, but it wasn’t a threat whose eyes you had captured.

Deep within the empty underbelly of Nevarro you were pretending to be asleep, listening to the breathing of the one that shared your bed. It was fast enough that you knew Din was awake, and the feel of his gaze on you was making it difficult to keep a straight face. You breathed slowly, doing your best impression of unconsciousness while a roving hand moved leisurely over your side. The Mandalorian’s strong body was pressed tightly against your back, his nose buried in your hair, fanning warm puffs of steam against your scalp. In your own arms the foundling was curled in a little ball in his favorite spot against your chest while your hands gently rubbed his ears. An amorous rumble against your spine and a long, deep sigh behind your head told you that the jig was up.

“Do you know you hum in your sleep,  _ cyare _ ?”

“Well good morning to you too, bucket boy.” You arched against his chest, reveling in the way the arms on either side of you tightened and a contented hum vibrated along your back. “What’s for breakfast?”

A sleepy laugh reverberated in your ear before soft kisses made their way to your temples. “It’s always about breakfast with you, isn’t it,  _ riduur’ika?” _

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, don'tcha know that?” You tilted your head so that his lips could get to your cheeks, the scrape of bristles prickling your skin. “Plus I’m sure Little Beans is hungry.” In your arms the green bundle yawned and stretched before his enormous eyes flickered open, ready to greet the brave new day. A soft purring chirp told you that you were right in your assumption, “See? Baby needs  _ breakfast.” _

Your partner sighed behind you and started to pull his arms free of your body so that he could prop himself up, peppering your face with kisses. You rolled from your side onto your back, letting him get to both of your cheeks before he found your lips again. His soft mouth against yours broke into a wide grin, and you let your eyes open to meet him at last. Part of you had believed that you had dreamt the previous evening, that the vicious haunt of hyperspace had left you stark-raving mad; but when you met those warm, honey-dark eyes of his you beamed right back at him. There he was, in all his early morning glory, a mop of bed head sticking to his brow and the red streaks of sleep scars denting his face.  _ Somebody slept damn good. _

The foundling clawed gently at your side, and you both turned your attention to the bug-eyed creature you both adored. Din let his weight fall onto you before reaching out to pull the child close to your smushed bodies, giving the green terror a fuzzy-lipped kiss. “Is that right, womp rat? You hungry?” The child gibbered and patted his papa’s bare face. “Alright, if you say so.” Din nuzzled the baby again, then kissed you deeply before tapping his brow to your forehead. He rolled off of you with a groan, making sure to squish you with his weight before sitting up on the edge of the bed, and you couldn’t help the way your eyes were drawn to the vicious scars of his back. He stretched his long arms, and the light patches of healed skin practically danced in the dim light of the dorm, bidding you to touch them. You lazily let your hand drop against him, and the slight flinch from the mighty warrior made you laugh. 

“You’re going to have to get used to being  _ touched,  _ tin man.”

He fixed you with a playful glare, “Not if I want to stay alive.”

“So you’ll wed and bed me but you don’t trust me not to kill you? It was  _ your _ idea!” You razzed, poking at his kidneys with pretend death blows and making him keel sideways to save himself from your assault. 

“Hey now! You  _ asked  _ me to!” He caught your quizzical expression, recalling that you knew nothing of your accidental proposal. He lugged his helmet up off the ground where it had sat for the night, the opalescent beast teeth still sitting pretty in the indents of its cheeks."Mandalorians decorate the helmets of the ones they...that they want to  _ riduurok. _ " Din said shyly, pointing at one jewel: “Will you,” then the other, “marry me, clear as the fangs on my face. How could I say no?” 

“Are you  _ kidding me!?”  _ You burst into laughter, if only you had known! You could have spared yourself so much heartache with the knowledge that you weren’t getting left behind after all, maybe even have saved yourself the ordeal of space-mares. “You’re telling me that  _ I  _ proposed to  _ you?  _ Why didn’t you tell me so!” You were sitting upright now, the foundling at your side, watching his  _ buir  _ with confusion. 

Din set the helmet on his knees, hunching his shoulders and shaking his head. “I-I didn’t...I didn’t want you t-to… to leave me. Didn’t want to make you frightened...”

“Oh  _ sure _ , but dropping to your knees and asking me to keep you or kill you is fine and dandy, huh rustbucket?” You chucked a balled-up blanket at him, making him hop up from the bed to run away from you. “You’re lucky that you’re cute and you’ve got a nice ass.”

He cocked a brow at you from the other side of the room, crossing his arms in mock indignation. “Is that the only thing you like about me,  _ cyar’ika?” _

You covered the foundling’s super-sized ears, unsure of how much Basic he actually understood. “You got a fat cock, too!”

The  _ glare  _ you got from your unarmored companion had you howling with laughter, and you flopped back on the pile of furs that was masquerading as a bed next to the bewildered foundling. A poor choice, your tender belly was now exposed, and agile hands found your sensitive middle to tickle you with a fury. The other hunter threw his legs over you to keep you from squirming away while he poked at your tummy until tears pricked at your eyes. “You’re too mouthy,  _ cyare! _ ”

“ _ Stop! _ Stah- Ah! Stoppit! Fuckin’ hell I give, I give!” Your muscles twitched hard in your middle, trying to protect your guts from his roughhousing. Din pinned your arms down at your sides, flashing you a brilliant, boyish smile. 

“So easily? How  _ disappointing.”  _

“I’d watch my back if I were you, tinman.” A fierce kiss nipped at your lips before you were released from his torturing grasp. Free of you, Din began pulling his gear on, and you tried to take a mental note of the order that his equipment was donned, but the leather and beskar flew to his body like magnets, and he was fully dressed in short order. “Boooo! Hisss!” He found his helmet again and plucked the radiant jewels from their recesses, tucking the finery into the pocket behind his chest plate. Their disappearance made you a bit sad now that you knew their true meaning, but you knew that there was no way he could keep the bling on his beskar for all to see. 

He saw your frown and shrugged. “They’re still good luck, even if you can’t see them, right?”

“Right!” You hopped up from the bed, stealing one last kiss from his bare face before the helmet sank back into place with a hiss of its latches; and the familiar visor was staring back at you again. You pulled your discarded clothes from the floor, shaking everything out before dressing yourself. Glittering on the floor by your feet was your new mask, and you quickly hooked the electromagnetic ear cuffs on, excited to wear your betrothal gift. In the corner of your eye you could see Mando watching you, relishing in the sight of you adorning yourself with his cultural armor, and you cocked him a sly grin before sliding the cool metal down over your face. The visor flickered to life, and a hot slew of color washed over your eyes. 

“Ok so… night vision, thermal tracking, infrared, ultra violet… Are any of these filters just regular sight, or is this how everything looks to you all the time?” You flipped through the settings of your engagement present, taking in your surroundings through a kaleidoscope of colors. Heat vision cycled again to your eyes, and you saw the hot red bloom in the center of your  _ riduur’s  _ chest, tendrils of heat coursing over to his extremities. You watched as the human fireball sauntered up to you, and the sound of leather brushing against metal scratched loudly in your audio processors as he flipped a secret switch, disabling the extrasensory equipment. “Thanks, that’s better.”

“Takes getting used to.” You wished mandos kept mirrors on hand, you could only see how you looked in the reflection of his visor, and though the image was warped, it was still formidable. A soft leather-clad hand wrapped around the back of your head, pulling you to his helmet in the familiar motion of affection you had grown to love; but the sound of beskar on beskar didn’t  _ donk  _ like it did with a skull, it  _ chimed.  _ Sweet, soft ringing like bells in the wind instead of the hollow thud of meat and bone, and you couldn’t help but gasp.  _ No wonder he liked doing it so often. _ The low rumble that followed told you that he heard your quiet exclamation, and was laughing at you fondly. “Did you hear it?” You nodded and knocked your forehead against him a second time, chasing the sound of the bells, but the hand behind your head hugged you tightly to stop you from trying a third. “ _ Beskar laar,  _ ironsong. I’ll ring that bell for you every day,  _ cyare,  _ but I think  _ someone _ is getting impatient.”

You looked behind you to where the foundling was trying to climb off the side of the bed onto his stubby little legs. Mando strode past you to scoop the short green thing up off the ground, holding him so that he faced outwards toward you. You ran your hand over his ears and patted his fuzzy head before hunting for your bag. It was the only thing you had brought with you from the  _ Crest,  _ and you were determined to steal a couple of extra towels and a good chunk of your favorite soap before returning to your Iron Mistress. With a full bag and a full heart, you and your clan made your way up to the surface world.

It was a bright, smokey morning on the surface of Nevarro, and two ragamuffin bounty hunters and their floating baby bucket walked through the decimated streets of the city that bore the same name as its planet in search of supplies, but most of the store fronts were still closed. Construction was happening on all sides, the ash and dust of the Imperial siege being cleared away to be made anew.  _ Takes getting used to  _ was an understatement, and not just because of the flashy detection equipment or the weight of the armor on your face, that was negligible; but what was making you the most uncomfortable was that you were getting  _ stared at.  _ The townsfolk were used to the destructive tendencies of the Mandalorians, stoic hunters that could go from silent to explosive in the blink of an eye, as made obvious by the sad state of the city streets. You, however, weren’t used to being noticed by anyone, but now people were desperately trying to get out of your way; and you weren’t sure if that made you feel powerful, or monstrous. 

“Mando, how much did we make on the other three bounties?” Your hush money was running thin, and if you were going to restock your supplies and get off this lump of charcoal, you would need some extra cash.

“We left before I was able to collect, but I doubt there will be anything for us after Karga pays off the debt of your lost warrant. You were supposed to be brought in  _ alive.” _

“Well fuck, I guess we better go see if he’ll pony up some credits for us to get our shit and get out of here.” The cantina was just a few blocks over, and the three of you made your way to the low domed building that served as the town’s central hub. When you reached the saloon, you caught sight of the Guild agent through the window, and you knocked hard enough on it to shake the soot from the dirty transparisteel. “Karga! Hey, Karga!” He could barely see you as it was, the volcanic ash of Nevarro built up thick on the low window sill, but when he turned his attention to the sound of his name, you could see him furrow his brow. The old agent squinted at you and cocked his head, unable to tell who was beckoning him through the grime, and you pointed at your shiny new face and waved. You saw an eyebrow raise, then both fly upwards when he put two and two together, followed by a face so shocked you wished you could snap a holo of it and display it on the wall of the  _ Crest _ . You made a series of obscene gestures with your hands, pointing at yourself and the Mandalorian that was coming up behind you before finally walking into the cantina. 

The other hunters moved aside quickly, having learned their lesson about the bite of beskar, and slinked off to the far corners of the room. You couldn’t help the swagger with which you walked, taking all the time in the world to approach the usual business booth. Karga only watched as your trio approached, unable to tear his eyes off of the streaking silver that now covered your face. You plopped down heavily on the tattered seat, scooting over so that your partner could squeeze in next to you. Having an armored face gave you an amazing new feeling of concealment, and behind your mask you were grinning like a nexu at the stunned expression of the agent sitting across from you; just waiting for him to find his words. He pointed to you, hovering just a little too long before pointing at Mando, then back at you with more flurried brows. 

“You...”

“Yep.”

“And him…?” 

“Uh huh.”

“So now you’re…?”

“You almost got it, Kargsy.”

He leaned back heavily in his seat before slamming down on the tabletop. “ _ Preposterous!  _ I mean... I was only  _ joking _ , I didn’t really think…wait a second, you didn’t even _ invite me?!”  _ You knew your face was hidden, but the way your shoulders jostled gave away your stifled laugh. “How  _ could you?!  _ After all I’ve done for you two! Oh what am I saying! We should be  _ celebrating! _ Crazy damn hunters... _ ”  _ The agent did nothing to hide his belly shaking laughter, waving at the bartending droid to fetch some drinks, though the only one at the table that would be drinking would certainly be himself. Three glasses and a jug of too-early-in-the-morning spotchka clanked to the table, and you felt your guts flip-flop unhappily at the sight of the vile brew. Greef poured himself a glass, then hesitated to pour a second. “So, are you like Mando now? Can’t show your face? How does that work exactly?”  _ Good question.  _ You turned to Din, who only shrugged and rolled his unadorned helmet. 

“You’re not bound to the creed, you’re only bound to me. Do as you please.” You weren’t exactly planning on imbibing anyway, but the way he spoke so brazenly about your bond made you flush warm under the beskar, and maybe keeping it on for now was a good idea. You shrugged, it was a good enough excuse to turn down the luminous liquor that you couldn’t forget the taste of fast enough. The Guild agent put down the spotchka jug after having only filled one glass, and sipped slowly at the glowing drink. 

“Unbelievable. Couldn’t even send me a card, and after I set you two up!” The snap of both your visors on him made him jump. “Now you’re ganging up on me!” He started to top his glass back up, shaking his head and mumbling under his breath. “So, what can I do you two  _ lovebirds  _ for?”

You ignored the sass behind the term of endearment, “How much is left of our credits?”

Karga scoffed. “ _Left?_ There’s nothing _left!_ Those three bounties put together _barely_ covered the cost of the damages to that transport unit you blew up. You’re lucky I’m such a smooth talker or I would have gone bankrupt! If you want more credits, you’re going to have to take on new jobs.”

_ Fantastic, so much for taking time off.  _ You looked at Mando and made an ‘I’m sorry’ grimace at him, forgetting that he couldn’t see you under the beskar. He must have gotten the hint though, because his shoulders went stiff and a long, drawn-out sigh leaked from his modulator. Nothing escaped Karga’s ears at this booth, and he frowned at the two of you before turning his attention to the child that floated at the end of the table. Baby beans was just watching, his eyes darting between everyone in the group, probably remembering the last time the three adults sat together and how poorly it had gone. Greef made silly faces at the baby before turning back to the two hunters. “I’ll tell you what, as my  _ gift  _ to you newlyweds and your adorable magic baby, I’ll pay for your fuel, but nothing else!”

“That’ll work! Alright, Kargsy, whatcha got for us?” You were pleased with yourself that you had negotiated at least part of your travel costs away, but a heavy leather hand found your leg under the table, reminding you that you made decisions as a team now, and you briefly worried that you were getting ahead of your tinman. The warm pads of his fingers squeezed and thumbed at your leg, and you realized he wasn’t trying to  _ stop _ you from picking bounties, he was getting  _ excited,  _ barely able to contain himself at the prospect of taking out new targets together. It’s what you  _ did,  _ after all.

“Well, first things first, I can’t give  _ you _ any pucks, you’re supposed to be  _ dead _ , remember? I can only give jobs to the living, Guild restrictions and all.” Karga fished a chain code reader from his voluminous robes and brought your information up on its holopad, and instead of the usual ghostly blue of the living, your picture was a harsh red haze, the word DECEASED blinking over your eyes. “I can start you a new registration profile,  _ Mrs. Mando,  _ but I’m going to need a name.” You rolled your eyes at the jibe, though the thought of having to rename yourself hadn’t actually crossed your mind. You couldn’t exactly put down  _ Djarin,  _ though that was your surname now, so you would have to come up with an alias.  _ Hmm… _

You stared at the keyboard of the reader, running through old nicknames and people you once knew, maybe even the names of racehounds you had once bet on; but the hand that was resting on your leg came up from the table and pulled the device closer. Mando poked something out on the keyboard with his pointer fingers, and in the holopad the word <<TRA’LAAR>> glimmered back at you over top of an image of your masked face.

“What does that mean?” you asked softly, feeling the gloved hand of your husband return to your knee after he pushed the reader back to you. The Mandalorian turned to you with a gentle tilt of his visor, something you had learned was liken to a smile.

“Starsong. Is...is that ok?”

_ Starsong.  _ You nodded quickly, it was  _ perfect.  _ Across the table the Guild agent looked like he was going to lose his spotchka, disgusted with the two of you being so cute. Karga shook his head with a strained laugh, then dealt out a handful of pucks to the two  _ living  _ hunters. He went through one after the other, explaining their crimes and their credit rewards and last known locations. Most of them weren’t fantastic, plenty of bail jumpers and a handful of assault charges that might prove fun to hunt, but not anything that would prove a real challenge. Next to you Mando nodded along, but under the table his hand inched higher up your thigh with each new option, the handsy warrior making you blush under your own beskar until you reached down to halt his advances. Strong fingers locked between yours, his thumb rolling over the back of your hand and distracting you from the hunt options being laid before you. Here you were trying to do your  _ jobs,  _ but even work couldn't convince him to stay off of you. You jumped when Karga cleared his throat, bringing your attention back to the task at hand.

“Well, whatcha think, Mando? You wanna pick two and I’ll pick two?” He nodded beside you, squeezing and letting go of your hand to absently grab two pucks off the table and pull them towards you without so much as a second glance. You made to follow suit, but the second both your hands were above the countertop, Din’s heavy paw fell right back to your thigh, deviously close to their apex. Heat flushed your face, stinging against the cool of your beskar, and you picked up two random pucks from the pile. Across from you, Karga watched you both make your decisions with tongue in cheek and eyebrows raised, a look that you knew meant you had made some strange choices; but he just shrugged, already having decided that the two of you were crazy. 

“Interesting.” Greef pulled the accompanying blinker fobs to the table, clearing away the disregarded pucks back into his many pockets. “Alright you two, I’ll have your ship filled and you can get on your way.”

“No droids near my ship, have the porters do it.”

Karga laughed, “Of course not, Mando, I don’t have that much of a death wish, especially not after yesterday.” The old Guild agent sighed, “You two  _ behave  _ now, you hear?” 

You nodded enthusiastically, but under the table your armored companion was doing just the opposite, following the inside of your leg until he was groping at your mound, sliding a leather pad over where your slit pushed against the duraweave.  _ Insatiable! _

“You got it, thanks for the gas!” You smacked Mando’s pauldron, kicking him off of you as well as the booth. “Beans, say bye-bye to uncle Kargsy.” The child waved as his floating pram turned and ghosted along behind you out the cantina door. Though the bar had food on hand, it left much to be desired, and street vendor delectables were calling your nose. Townspeople skirted out of your way as you followed the smell of much-needed breakfast, but you ignored them to grill your companion. “Mando! You’re lucky he was focused on the bounties and not your wandering hands, or he woulda kicked our asses to the curb.” The metal mountain shrugged, shaking his helmeted head quickly as if he was bemused by the idea of getting caught.

Corellian bloodhound must have run in your veins, because you were able to sniff out an early morning bakery and caf-roaster, and the savory aroma had your mouth watering behind your armor. The whites of the vendor’s eyes were showing as the two of you approached, and even without any of your visual equipment running, you could see him pale at the sight of your mighty trio. You knew by the look on his face that if you wanted to eat, you would need to play nice. “Good morning, could I get-”

“J-just take it! Take whatever you want! P-please don’t hurt me!” The frightened merchant backpedaled from the stand, throwing their hands over their face for protection. Part of you wanted to lift your mask to assure them that you weren’t exactly Mandalorian, but thought better of it and pulled a handful of credits from your pocket, setting down what you thought the price might be for three pastries and a thermos of caf. The vendor stayed huddled away from the stand as your crew continued on its way, and you tried to shrug off the glares you were getting while you wrapped two of the pastries up and stuffed them in your bag for you and Din to eat later. Beans took his breakfast eagerly, being his gross, adorable self as he chowed down in his hovercrib. 

“Damn Mando, is it like that for you all the time?” The hunter nodded, but said nothing. “That fucking blows.” You tilted your mask back just enough to get the thermos to your mouth, wincing at the caf’s heat and lack of sweetness, but powered through it anyway. You stopped at a few more stores, picking up your usual collection of bacta and tools, absently chatting away at your partner while he followed silently along. You had your backpack stuffed full of goodies and were feeling well about your next adventure when you rounded a street corner, and stepped back immediately at what you saw. You’d only caught a glance, but you knew the shape of standard-issue white duraplast anywhere.

“Mando back up. Right now.” You pushed against his chestplate, steering him back down the alley you were in until you were behind a stack of crates. His jetpack made an ugly sound as it scratched against the stucco of the building while you pressed up against him, using your body to shield him and the child’s pram, though he himself would have made a much better barrier. Habitually, his hands went to your waist, still enamored with being allowed in your proximity, not quite getting what you were trying to do. You ignored him, watching the intersection through your visor.

“ _ Cyar’ika... _ this isn’t-”

“ _ Ksst! _ ” You hissed, catching the tilt of beskar in the corner of your eye, and the click of a blaster’s safety in your ear when he noticed you weren’t playing coy. Motionless, you both watched the entrance to the alleyway, and you heard them before you saw them.

“You there! Have you seen any mandos?”

“Y-yes! Two of them! They went that way!”  _ Shit balls of hell.  _ You recognized the whimpering voice of the baker that was selling you out. Under the chestplate of your armored companion you caught the sound of his quickening heartbeat, the speeding rhythm adding to your own surging adrenaline. The stormtroopers were crossing through the intersection now, and you were able to get a good look at the sad state of the once-terrible soldiers. Their plasticast armor was dingy and dirty, smeared with volcanic ash and rust. Between the busted plates you could see the tears in their duraweave, sloppily patched and mended. They looked like shit, but they were still armed to the teeth in what was left of their equipment. Blindly they made their way past your alley, not even bothering to glance at where you were hidden. Hot breath coasted over your head with the release of your packmate’s breath, and you let yours loose as well. 

“That was close.” He grated through his modulator. “The last thing we need, or these townspeople need, are more fucking Imps.”

“No shit, looks like it’s just a handful though. Still too many for a good day, but not so much that we couldn’t handle them.” Above you the black hole where his eyes should be turned down to you, tilting slightly with a questioning roll. You reached up and slid your own armor to the top of your head so that he could see your face. “The bounty pucks can wait, right?” He nodded, and you bared your teeth in a vicious, bloodthirsty grin. “Then let's. Go.  _ Hunting.”  _

A low growl reverberated in the metal of his chest, and the hand that wasn’t brandishing his blaster came up to cup your chin, dragging his rough leather thumb over the edge of your jaw. “Marry me.”

“Day late, dollar short, bucket boy.” You chided, “I’m already spoken for.” You kissed at the edge of his helmet, reveling in the snarl that barked through the modulator before pulling your own beskar back down over your face. “We gotta get them away from the civilians.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I thought you hated my plans.”

“Your plans are  _ terrible,  _ but they work,  _ ner riduur.”  _

“Damn right they do. Ok look, I’ll grab their attention and get them to chase me, you take Beans and pick them off as I get them further away from people. Think you can handle that?” 

Beskar chimed when it knocked against your brow, surging fire along with the adrenaline your veins were furiously pumping. “Just be careful, my love.” You returned the gesture of affection with another sweet chime, then pulled back to point down the alleyway. Din nodded and took off, the child’s closed hover crib floating along behind him. Free of your oathsworn, you rolled your shoulders and scuffed your boots in the volcanic soil, revving yourself up for what would be a hell of a run. You stepped out onto the main road, catching sight of where the disgraced Imps were still harassing the townspeople. The thermos of nasty caf exploded on the back of one big white egg, turning their attention to you. 

“Hey fucknuggets! Looking for me?” You barely took a breath to duck back into the alley as blaster fire shot overhead.  _ Assholes, there’s bystanders nearby!  _ Memories of Tatooine flashed in your mind as you hauled ass through the charred streets, chucking supply crates into the way of the worst shots in the galaxy. The stormtroopers weren’t fast, but they were ambitious, plowing through the obstacles that you threw in their way. You rounded a corner, avoiding plasma shots easier than the broad side of a barn. “Eggheads!” You taunted, keeping them chasing after you. At a deserted intersection you stopped, waiting for them to round the corner; and you couldn’t help but grin when one of them was yanked into the air, dangling on the end of a grapple. A single - _ urk- _ told you that one was down and out.  _ How many were there? Three? Four? _

Two more rounded the corner, and you sped down the next street after another string of searing insults. The Imps shot at you with no regard for human life, pockmarking the already disheveled buildings with more burnt holes. Making sure that they saw you take the next turn, you ducked behind a corner, waiting for them to follow suit.  _ So predictable.  _ The two dirty soldiers plodded past you, and you drew your blaster and fired, catching one in the skull and one in the shoulder. Trooper one fell to the ground, but the second one reeled and tried to aim their gun at you with their fucked up arm.  _ Bad move.  _ Black and silver rained from above, kicking the stormtrooper’s legs out from under it and blasting it full of holes. Mando knocked the dead Imps gun away with his foot, just in case, then turned his gaze to you. “Nice wor- _ look out!” _

You snapped back to look behind you, and for the first time in the entire history of the Empire, a stormtrooper made a bullseye.

**“-** **_Twang!-”_ **

You fell backwards to the ground with the force of the impact to your face.  _ Game over. _

**_“Blam!”_ **

Everything was  _ ringing,  _ and not in a nice way, making the world appear as flickering greys and blacks as your eyeballs tried to pull blood back to their concussed retinas. The sound of Mando’s blaster and the  _ thud  _ of a dead body hitting the dirt made you open your stunned eyes. You laid in the pyroclastic gravel, thinking maybe you were a ghost and you were just hearing and seeing the last of the living world; but your wilted vision was soon eclipsed by a big metal bucket leaning over top of you.

“Are you alright?”

Shockingly, you were able to respond. “I...think so? What the hell I took that right between the eye-  _ oh!”  _ You brought your hands to your face where a bullet hole should be, running your fingers over the smooth beskar that had saved your life. “Beskar! Beskar blocks blast bullets! Try saying that three times fast.” Your helmeted husband hauled you to your feet, roughly brushing the dirt and gravel off of you in his endearingly fussy way. “Yeah, I’m good, tinman. Thanks for the armor.” You were glad he couldn’t see your eyes, you were squinting and blinking fast, trying to usher your sight back, letting loose a sigh of relief as the details of his armor came into view. The protective faceplate chimed its siren song as Din pushed his helmet against you, humming happily with the knowledge of your safety.

“You’re quick _ , cyare,  _ but maybe next time let  _ me  _ be the bait?” 

“Not a snowflake's chance in hell.” Turning away from your armored companion, you bent down to inspect the fallen trooper. “What the fuck were they doing here anyway?”

“Probably leftovers from the siege, maybe longer by the looks of their armor.” A bandoliered boot kicked at the sullied corpse. “Usually there’s more than this, but these look like they’ve been on-world too long, trying to make a good capture to earn a place back into a larger platoon.”

“Shitstains.” You pushed your mask to the side and spat on the ground, “I’d better not see another one of these skulking around, or I’ll run out of blast cartridges pumping them full’a holes.'' The taste of the hunt was still strong on your tongue, and the hunger for blood was making you aggressive. “Fuckin’ Empire never did me any favors, not to mention all the people who’s lives’ve been ruined by their destruction. What’s left of them needs to be purged like a disease.  _ Expunged. _ ” Through the haze of bloodlust you caught your man staring at you, and realized that you were getting more fired up than what might have been appropriate. You cleared your throat, trying to cough the thrill of the chase out of your lungs. “Yikes, I’m sorry Mando, I don’t know what-”

“Don’t be.” He was close now, having crossed the short distance between you in a single stride. “Tell me more.” 

“Oh? You like that, huh?” He nodded, letting his hands wander up your arms and down your sides until he was squeezing at your waist. “I wanna hunt  _ Imps.” _

“Yeah?” 

“ _ Yeah.  _ Forget bail jumpers, I wanna go after the Empire’s soggy leftovers, break their dirty duraplast open and spill their rotten guts.” The handsy warrior ran his fingers around the swell of your ass and down the backs of your thighs, lifting up on them so hard you were forced to wrap your arms around his neck while he saddled you around his waist. “Mando! We’re  _ outside!”  _

“Don’t care, I wanna hear  _ more.”  _ He waltzed the two of you into the nearest alleyway, barely out of sight of anyone who would walk down the street; though the stormtrooper carcasses would probably dissuade any and all from getting too close. Mando waited for you to toss your backpack off before pushing you against the stucco, grinding hard into your core. 

“Fucksake, where do you get the  _ energy? _ ” You laughed, though it was a serious question that would probably never get an answer. He ignored you, groaning heavily in your ear. 

“ _ More.” _

“Alright alright.” It was hard to respond with him getting so fresh. “If I see another one of those fucking eggheads I’ll rattle their dirty plastic buckets with...with... _ fuck.”  _ His armored hips surged into you, the plates of his sides pinching your inner thighs and making it hard for you to put words together. “Gonna… gonna scramble their yolks with my b-blades.”

“Fuck yeah you are.  _ More,  _ tell me  _ more, ner riduur.”  _ Between your legs the bulge of his stiff cock was rutting into you, trying desperately to meet you through the layers of duraweave. 

“I’m gonna find those dirty Imps, I’m gonna shoot them in their ugly plasticast faces. I’ll take all their guns as my  _ trophies.  _ Blow their whole ratsnest sky.... _ high!”  _ You keened, squished harder against the wall by the breadth of his chestplate so his hands could move without dropping you. Deft digits dug into your belt and  _ yanked _ , pulling your pants down over the curve of your backside just far enough that your heat was exposed. You were unable to see anything past his broad armored shoulders, and the sound of a zipper being thrown was all the warning you got before he was pushing up into you.

“I think… you should...take...their... _ heads!”  _ He stuttered between thrusts, leaning back to hook your legs through the crooks of his elbows, jackknifing you against the ashstreaked wall. His cock split you in two, stretching you open almost painfully without any prior slicking. “ _ More!  _ I wanna hear  _ more!  _ Make your husband  _ proud!”  _ His command growled through his modulator, so loaded with need that the hair on the back of your neck stood on end and your pussy flooded with much-needed juice.

“Fu-fuck Man-an-d-do! I’ll- fuckin...stab… an’… sh-shoot…  _ ah~! _ ” Between his filthy cadence and the air being squeezed from your chest you couldn’t get a word in edgewise; and you bunched your fingers into the scruff of his cloak, holding on for dear life while he plowed you into the wall. You clamped your coils around him, making him moan against the side of your mask and earning yourself just enough of a break in his stride to find your voice. “Gonna… gonna get the jump on ‘em. Sneak up behind their stupid fucking Imp asses and gut them like fish.” You winced when he sped up, the friction becoming too much.“ _ Ouch!” _

He stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of pain, his heaving chest the only movement from the silver statue. He looked down between your bodies to where he was lost inside you, then let one of your legs back down to his hip so he could free his hand from your thigh. The armored paw was brought up to the bottom of your mask and up under the beskar to your mouth. 

“ _ Bite. _ ” You bit down on the leather, holding the glove in your teeth as he pulled his hand free, stuffing it down between your pressed bellies to where his cock was. He pulled the throbbing member out and slid his calloused fingers in, hunting for your sweet spot. “Let’s see, where’s that spot that makes you  _ squirm?  _ Should be...right...about... _ here.”  _ His trigger finger dug into the patch of nerves, pumping in and out of you until you were whining around the glove still in your teeth. Another finger joined the first, taking a moment to scissor around inside you to stretch you further before thrusting into you again. “You love my hands, don’t you,  _ cyar’ika? _ Love when I  _ fuck you  _ with them?” You could barely nod, between his efforts and being squashed against the wall, you were putty in his hands. His long fingers pumped quickly at your core, digging in deeper every time you clenched around them to churn you into a slick mess. A vicious growl in your ears made your insides flutter, and the Mandalorian could feel you starting to come undone for him. “Does that feel better,  _ cyare? _ ” He purred, spinning his thumb over your clit between plunges. “Come on, come for me like a  _ good girl~.” _

You bit down hard on the glove with a muffled cry, clawing at his shoulders while he milked every drop from you until it was running down his hand and onto the volcanic soil below. Soft praises whispered out of his modulator, telling you how well you take his hands, how soft and strong you are and all the ways he would pleasure you each and every day. He slid his fingers out of your deliciously wet heat and filled you right back up with his cock. The bare hand glistened in the smoky daylight before disappearing under the edge of his helmet to lick himself clean, humming at the taste of your sweet nectar. With both hands back on your legs, he nearly crushed you against the wall, chasing his own desperate release. Hot steam fogged up your visor, his ragged breath coming hard out of the bottom of his helmet with each merciless thrust. The sound of him losing himself in you was music to your ears, low, rumbling growls between broken words of adoration until he was nearly spooled to completion. 

“That’s my  _ riduur!  _ That’s my  _ wife!  _ F-feirce little t-thing! So b-beautf-ful, wearing  _ my _ armor! Wearing  _ beskar  _ like a  _ true Mando’ade!  _ I c-can’t wait to...to... get... you  _ more!”  _ He pulled out of your sopping cunt, pressing his throbbing shaft under your asscheeks while he came hard against the wall behind you, groaning the whole way through. His breath came in broken gasps through his modulator, and his arms coiled around your legs as if he was trying to melt your body into his through your many layers. You hugged him back while trying to pull your legs from his arms, and reluctantly he let you drop from him, holding you steady as much as he was trying to hold himself. Tugging your pants back up and taking the wet glove from your mouth, you couldn’t help but turn and glance at the marked wall, flabbergasted at the  _ amount  _ that was dripping through the ash-laden stucco. 

“That’s supposed to be mine!” You pointed at the gooey smear with a laugh that was rewarded with a tilted visor glare. 

“No...fresher…”

“Oh aren’t you  _ thoughtful. _ "

You patted his heaving shoulders and leaned forward to kiss his helmet where his mouth would be, humming sweetly before turning your attention to the corpses that were still strewn about the deserted street. The trooper bodies had started to grow cold, and you made your way over to them to collect your trophies with a skip in your step. Their blasters were  _ grimey _ , so soiled with plasma residue and fucking  _ dirt  _ that you almost didn’t want to touch them. “Hey, Mando, do you think the scary sewer queen would like these?” He cocked his head at you from over where he was dragging the white plasticast corpses into the alleyway you had just disrespected. “The beefy lady, with the sword?”

“ _ Ruusaan?”  _ You nodded at the somewhat familiar word. “She’d be  _ thrilled.  _ Probably forge you another piece of armor once you collect a few more. Everything after the helmet has to be  _ earned,  _ and...and I’d  _ love  _ to see you...in… in full beskar,  _ cyar’ika.” _

“So I’ve been told.”  __ You glanced around the deserted back alley, getting the feeling that something was missing, something important. “Mando! Where’s our fucking  _ foundling?!”  _ Din straightened up and pressed a few buttons on his vambrace, angling his visor up to the rooftops. The baby’s hoverbucket floated over the edge, gently gliding down from out of harm's way. Inside, the tiny green terror was throwing his arms up in the air, enjoying the ride back down to ground level. His shirt and blankie were  _ covered  _ in muffin crumbs, and though he was a mess, your stomach  _ roared;  _ being made violently aware that you hadn’t gotten to eat your fucking breakfast yet. Both of your boys cocked their heads at the sound of your rabid insides, bidding Din to stride forward, placing a hand on your shoulder while you tried to clear the remnants of the child’s meal away.

“Are you  _ still _ hungry?”

“I never got to eat, our breakfast is still in my backpack.”

His helmet snapped softly backwards in a motion you had learned meant he was confused. “Why didn’t you eat yet?”

“Because I want to eat  _ with  _ you _.”  _ You ignored the quick tilt of his beskar to focus on picking pastry bits out of the child’s  _ ears,  _ fucking  _ stars,  _ how did he get them in his  _ ears?!  _ “It’s not fair that you have to eat by yourself all the damn time, creed or not, you should have someone watching your back when you’re vulnerable. And that’s my job now, right?” You pushed your mask up to the top of your head so he could see your eyes meet his visor. The metal mountain looked so small with his shoulders drooping and his hand resting softly on your arm, the faint twitch of his helmet telling you he was rapidly looking between both of your eyes so your words could sink in. 

“What did I do to deserve you,  _ Tra’laar?”  _

“Sprang me from jail.” You turned back to the messy baby to hide your blushing face, unwilling to wax poetic about how much you liked him while your guts demanded an audience. “Where are you more comfortable, in the sewers or in the  _ Crest?” _

“We should get back to the ship, Karga’s probably got it fueled up by now.” You nodded, finding your backpack and pulling the slightly-squashed pastries up to the top so you could stuff the icky Imp guns in the bottom for your trophy collection. When you turned back to your crewmates, however, you were greeted with an extended arm, the bent elbow of your new husband offering to escort you back to your waiting chariot. You snickered and gladly accepted the gesture, hooking your arm through his as you had done during your masquerade. The pair of you glided past where the stormtroopers bodies were stashed, scavengers would come for them eventually to strip them of their worthless armor and priceless organs; but the two of you couldn’t care less, lost in the comfort of each other's company. 

The  _ Razor Crest  _ came into view soon enough, and your Mandalorian only pulled away from you then to fuss with his buttons and get the ramp open. As you approached the old ship you felt your heart sink at the sight of your old mask, still half-buried where it had been stomped into the obsidian gravel. You pulled it from its grave, and the remnants of its photoreceptor casings flaked away like dried leaves, confirming what you already knew; there was no saving it. 

“Hey Mando, can you hit a moving target?” He scoffed at you before seeing what was in your hands, making him tilt quizzically at you.

"What happened to it? Did you drop it?"

" _ No.  _ The IG units broke it."

"Fucking  _ droids _ . I'm sorry  _ ner cyare'se _ , I hope your new one makes you happy."

" _ You  _ make me happy, buckethead."

You made to heft the mask, making a few slow pretend throws so he got the hint and let his hand hover over his pistol like a gunslinger. “Hup!” You chucked the busted thing high in the air, and his blaster snapped like a viper from his hip with a  _ bang!  _ The wasted durasteel exploded spectacularly in the air, raining back down as chunks of shrapnel that had you running for the  _ Crest  _ and giggling like a fool.  _ Rest in pieces. _

You followed Mando and the foundling up the ramp of the ship, taking a moment to run your palm over the entryway. There was a time not too long ago when you thought you would never see her again, the ship that you had made a home for yourself in. The beskar mask hid your smile as your eyes wandered over her messy interior, lingering over the cot that still had your bedroll in it and gazing lovingly at the wall panel where the armory was hidden from view; and you wondered if you would get to add your own trophies to that case. Even the empty carbonite chamber had you feeling a sense of belonging, that this is where your wild hunt would lead, time and time again. The door to the ramp closed, and you took a deep, fulfilling breath of the stuffy atmosphere of the hold. “Hello, Iron Lady, did you miss me?”

“Did you say something?” Din was working to get the child out of his pram so he could stretch his legs in the safety of the ship. 

You rolled your mask up to the top of your head, the shining beskar looking like a crown fit for a queen. “Hmm? Oh, no, just an old sailor phrase.  _ Iron Lady, queen of strife, You're my only home and wife. I know I'm bound to you for life, nor would I have another!”  _ You belted, hearing the acoustics of the durasteel walls thrum to life with the power of your voice. You sighed, long and low as you had heard your partner do so many times, and you turned your eyes back to him; resisting the urge to screw your eyes shut at the sight of his bare face. He would have to get used to being touched, but  _ you _ would have to get used to seeing the real flesh and blood of the man underneath the armor.  _ Fucking Maker, he’s so pretty!  _

Din pressed kisses to your forehead, then both your cheeks, and lastly your smile; humming through his adoration. You closed your eyes and let yourself get caught up in his affections, but the tug on your shoulder gave away his sneaky thievery, and you shot one eye open to watch him pull your backpack off of you. He laughed and started digging through the ratty old bag, pulling the baked goods out for you to finally eat. You took yours greedily, stuffing the now cold loaf of goodness into your piehole, waiting for Din to do the same. He watched you with a strange look in his eye, as if he was trying to imagine himself eating vicariously through you, though he had his own meal right there in his hands. 

You raised a brow at him. “What’s wrong? Did I get the wrong flavor?”

He shook his head, his chocolate pudding eyes shining up to you in a bashful, puppy-like way. “I...um… I’ve never eaten around anyone before.” 

_ Stop being so fucking cute all the time!  _ “Oh, ok well here let’s do this.” You plopped down on one of the many crates that littered the cabin with your back to him. “Take your rockets off and come sit behind me.” You turned away from him and waited until you heard the dull  _ thunk  _ of metal hit the ground and felt the crate shift with his weight. “Now lean back.” He did as he was instructed, leaning his back up against your own, and the happy sigh that rumbled out of him made your heart swell. Then the sound of loud,  _ fast  _ eating made you chuckle, and he froze behind you. “Oh for fucks sake the baby eats  _ way grosser  _ than you do. Fuckin’ go for it.” You felt his shoulders jostle with a secretive laugh, and the onslaught began anew. His breakfast disappeared in seconds, and you wondered if he even  _ tasted  _ it before he sucked it down. “Is that how you _ always  _ eat?”

“Mmhmm.” He said with his mouth still partially full. “Nev’r know what’s coming.” You turned to watch him throw his legs around the other side of the crate, sitting perpendicular to you now so he could wrap an arm around your waist while you ate your well deserved meal. “You take your time.”

“Ah plan to.” And you did, actually  _ chewing  _ your food, only stopping to accept a canteen that was handed to you in lieu of your launched projectile thermos. With a happy belly you turned to your  _ riduur _ , grinning right back at his sheepish little smile. “So, captain, what’s next for us?”

“Do you remember what I said last night? I want you to pick a star for me to bring you.”

The sweet sentiment made your heart swell, then promptly drop. “What about our Guild contracts?” You were expecting a groan, a sigh, or even a curse at the reminder that you had put your crew right back on the trail instead of bound for rest and relaxation; but instead you were gifted with petal-soft kisses on your cheek. 

“Anywhere with you is a pleasure,  _ riduur’ika, especially  _ if I get to see you hunt.” He scooted closer to you on the crate, wrapping both his arms around your waist while you were still trying to eat, resting his scruffy chin in the crook of your shoulder, breathing right in your ear. “And if we see any Imps, we can hunt them down for  _ sport.”  _ He growled the last words with enough malice that a chill ran up your spine and broke into the light as an icy smile. 

“Stars  _ above,  _ you do  _ not _ like those fuckin’ Imps, do you?” Din nodded, making sure to rub against your cheek like a big, happy massiff. “Alright then, gimme your pucks.” One armored hand disappeared from you to dig through his belt pouches, bringing his half of the bounties into view. You scarfed down the last of your breakfast and found your own pucks to add to the pile in his grasp. Between his hand and yours, you shook your collection of captured stars, shuffling the bounties in your palms and pulling one from the stack as your choice. You held it up high in front of you like you were inspecting a jewel instead of a chunk of duraplast and wiring. “This one. Bring this one to me.” The leftover pucks were returned to his pouch, freeing himself up to run his insatiable paws over your shoulder to tug at your outstretched arm. He brought your hand to his lips, pressing fuzzy kisses to your knuckles, humming at the goosebumps that readily prickled your skin.

“As you wish.”


	8. Ghosts of the River Styx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: SEXY THINGS: More fluff than a bag of marshmallows, food play, power play, orgasm denial, fan favorites fingering/handjobs/p in v/ praise kink/ cream pies etc. UNSEXY THINGS: Bounty hunters doing their thing, blood n guts, near-death experiences, mentions of death, PTSD/ mentions of trauma.
> 
> A/N: I put entirely too much into this chapter, its a lot to put it plainly. Lot of backstory for reader, some good (read: terrible) scary moments between the two of them, but overall just some good old fashioned love-conquers-all for this pair of sappy badasses.

The rain that was coming down on the forest moon of Endor was like nothing you had ever seen, drenching sheets of water flooding from the sky so hard and fast that it felt like an entire ocean had been turned over above you. You were warm and dry on the flight deck of the _Razor Crest_ , watching the downpour through the rounded transparisteel window over a ration tin, though you knew you wouldn’t be comfortable for much longer. Your choice of stars had sent you to the wooded satellite in search of smugglers, and you were a little more excited than you probably should have been at the bounty puck’s instructions to leave no survivors; though you wondered how you would find _anything_ in this weather. 

In your arms the foundling watched the riverettes of water streaming down the window, pointing with his little claws at the fat drops racing by between stealing bites of your dinner. His cosmic eyes blinked up at you expectantly whenever lightning crackled above, and his ears went straight up at the roar of thunder, making you laugh. “What was that, booger? Scary noise?” He chirruped and wiggled closer to your chest, torn between trying to hide from the storm and wanting to watch the light show. You rubbed his ears affectionately, trying to console the little beastie when someone else’s hand came around to join yours. Din pat his son’s fuzzy green head, leaning heavily on your shoulder while he did so, pressing kisses to the side of your face. “Well, what do you think?” you asked your partner, “Are we gonna have to put some rubber boots on and get going?”

“Unfortunately yes. This rain’s not going to stop, and if we don’t move soon we might lose the trail.” The green terror was lifted from your lap, “You ready to go outside, womp rat?” The baby started to gibber a response, but the flash of lightning outside made him curl in a little ball against his fathers cuirass, frightened of the inevitable boom of thunder. “Sorry kid, you’re going to have to get used to that while we’re here.” Your armored companion offered you his hand to help you from your seat, and your trio got to work on preparing for a few days in the rain.

Everything that you owned had come from Tatooine, where water had to be collected from dew in underground pits instead of falling from the sky, and nothing you had was waterproof. Your muckboots were at least partially hydrophobic, ensuring that the only thing on you that _might_ be dry after this excursion would be your socks. Mando’s equipment wasn’t any more helpful, he had a large oilskin cloak and a couple of tarps that could be fashioned into a waterproof tent, but nothing else. You tucked the tarps into your bag while Mando tied the cloak around the child’s pram, deciding that if anyone was going be to warm and dry, it should be the foundling. In his many lockers there was a collection of _cold_ weather clothing, heavy fur parkas and long johns, but the rain that was coming down would turn all that into dead weight, and you forwent warmth for dexterity. At the armory you picked out a good selection of blades rather than loading yourself down with extra blasters, which could get finicky in the wet weather, and steel would never let you down, rain or shine. 

Din fussed lovingly with your gear while you tried to dress yourself with the miss-matched collection of blades, lingering over each holster and sheath as if you couldn’t see clear through him. He _loved_ watching you arm yourself to the teeth in his collection of armaments, and you knew as much as he enjoyed watching you put them _on,_ he would have even more fun getting them _off_ of you later. When he caught you snickering at his antics, he pulled you to him by the straps that criss-crossed your body, unable to keep his wandering hands to himself. He drew you close, allowing you to push his helmet up so he could kiss you. His kisses were _hungry,_ as though you hadn’t spent every jump through hyperspace in each other's company on the way to your next target. 

The Mandalorian had spent so long alone, only having the company of other iron-bound warriors and the odd reluctant ally for kinship, but never knowing the feel of another’s skin against his own until you came into his life and knocked down all his walls. The feel of you against him was _intoxicating,_ and he happily let himself get caught up in your affections every chance he got. Your lips were so _soft_ against his, matched only by the softness of your body, and he praised your beauty and strength until your cheeks burned from his lust-laden devotion. 

He wanted to be a _good_ husband to you, to earn the right to be by your side every day as if that wasn’t what you already knew he would be. Not a single inch of you was spared his affections, kisses that whispered _‘cyare’_ whenever his lips reached your ears and warm palms on your hips that rocked yours against his whenever you were in his arms. Though of all his touches, the one that made your heart sing the sweetest was whenever you were just near enough to each other that he could sneak his fingers in between your own, locking your hands together with a gentle squeeze.

A new hunt was before you now, and you stole one more kiss from his lovely face before the beskar fell back down. The access ramp of the old ship fell open slowly, and the change in pressure sucked cold spray into the cabin, making a chill run through you, of _course_ it has to be _cold_ rain _._ You pulled your mask down over your eyes and tightened your cloak around yourself before marching out into the storm. The rainfall was _blinding_ , and you jacked with your mask’s settings to get some kind of sight back. Thermal was _useless,_ everything coming back as purples and greens in the chill. Night vision almost worked well enough, and you turned to glance back at your comrades, watching the eerie green figure sauntering up behind you with a large, jellyfish shaped blob floating along behind. Water coursed over his beskar and down his many plates, pooling in the indents of his pauldrons and the ridges of his chest piece; giving him a ghastly, wraith-like appearance. You were thankful that the foundling was up off the ground, you, on the other hand, were sinking into the mud with each laboured step. You yelled to your beloved spectre, but your voice was whisked away by the falling rain, making your heart sink with the realization that you could be cut off from him and the child if you lost visual on your crew.

The forests of Endor were renowned throughout the galaxy, not for their hurricaine-like rainstorms, but for the colossal trees that grew like living skyscrapers, clustered together so densely that they would have blot out the sun if it was shining. You couldn’t tell if it was day or night under the sprawling branches, between their thick canopies and the harrowing rain, it was darker than a sarlacc’s backside on the forest floor. The sound of water roaring through the tree branches and the sound of your own breathing echoing in your audio processors made the world somehow seem sprawling and also very, very crowded. Your lungs were already becoming strained with the chore of plowing through the mud and climbing over the serpentine roots of the gargantuan foliage, the strain of your muscles becoming your only source of heat.

Your crew plodded along through the rain and mud, following the slow, lazy blink of the fob on Mando’s belt; and you shivered with the cold that was sinking into your bones. The weight of your drenched clothing was starting to become a burden, and you pulled your cloak around to attempt to wring the water from it, but it was quickly resaturated as the rain bore down on you and soaked you through. You craved the warmth of conversation, or even the heat of your mate’s body, but the storm drowned out any sound you would have made. As if he could feel your loneliness, Din reached for your hand, giving it a reassuring, soggy squeeze that gave you just enough of an ember of warmth to keep you going. 

You hiked for _hours_ , and it wasn’t until you were shaking from the cold damp that you noticed the speed of the fobs blinker, it was quicker; indicating that you were getting close. After another hour or so through the sleeting downpour, the flashes of the fob were speeding as fast as your racing heart, the thrill of the hunt spurring you through the timberlands. Between the mammoth trunks you caught something in your visor, a lighter color against the dark grey-greens of the trees, and you flipped your senors back to thermal detection. Ahead, flicking faintly between the now blue and purple of the ice cold foliage, was a tiny spec of red. _Fire._ You pulled a blade from your belt and knocked the pommel against your beskar, the high pitched ringing getting Mando’s attention for you to signal what you saw, pointing at your eyes then at the target. He signaled back to you, indicating that you would flank the location on either side, and you nodded before vanishing alone into the dark. 

The rough-barked skyscrapers provided almost _too_ much coverage as you approached the scene, making it difficult to get a visual on the campsite. Between each living obelisk, you slinked your way closer, catching snippets of the area between the wooden walls, trying to piece the scene together in your mind; and an uneasy feeling began to creep it’s way under the cold of your skin. Something was _wrong,_ though you couldn’t be sure why until you were almost on top of the ruined campsite. The last embers of a fire were still smouldering under a protective lean-to, but the rest of the area had been thrown apart, with tents and _bodies_ littering the trampled grounds, cold as the grave in the torrential downpour. The taste of bile stung at the back of your throat when you saw the size of the tiny corpses, _are those… younglings?_

You drew your knives on reflex like a nexu puffs its barbs at the approaching body coming through the mist, sheathing them quickly when you realized it was your Mandalorian. He bent down to inspect the bodies in the mud, turning a child-sized corpse over and revealing its wounds. Up close you you could tell it wasn’t human, it looked like some kind of two-legged _bear,_ wearing a little cloth hood around its furry head. You’d never seen anything like it before, it had a snubbed face and little gapped teeth, and in life it was probably pretty cute. The other bodies nearby all had the same gaping blast holes in their chest, and whatever had made these kills, it had to be _big._

The remains of the campfire cast uneasy shadows around the already oppressive darkness, and in the faded light you could just barely make out the edges of tracks in the mud. Large, rectangular indents sank deep in the waterlogged soil, and your guts flopped grossly when you realized what their source had to be: _Imp_ _Walker._ Both of your visors locked on the widely spaced tracks, and even through the pouring rain you could see him clench his fists. You started to say something when movement caught the corner of your eye through the sheets of rain, and you snapped on where you thought the threat might be; but there was nothing there. You cycled your sensors, trying to pick anything up on your visor, but the kaleidoscope told you nothing of value; maybe you were imagining things.

Rustling from the nearby bushes confirmed your sanity, and you lept back towards your crewmates with blades drawn, ready to defend them from the incoming assailants. Your oathsworn pushed you behind him on instinct, doing his human shield routine while you tried to do yours, and if you weren’t in immediate danger the situation would have been hilarious. You raised your vibros, sending fans of spray arching off of your pulsating blades, ready to tackle whatever tried to hurt your foundling or your husband. The surge of adrenaline warmed your insides and stoked your fire until it was burning at your eyes; but the squat creature that wobbled out from the bushes had you almost dropping your weapons with how fucking _cute_ it was. _What the actual fuck is that?_

A living version of the casualties around you emerged from the underbrush wearing an adorable little coat and brandishing the tiniest spear ever, and when it was close enough to you it only came up to your waist. Its scruffy, soggy face made some kind of muffled roar noise while it pointed the stone spearhead at you, but it only made the damn thing look more cute instead of intimidating, and you lowered your blades back to their sheaths to address the beastie. Several more of the delightfully stubby creatures materialized from the sleeting shadows, and as cuddly-looking as they were, you felt sweat break out under your mask with the realization that they had you surrounded. 

You heard something behind you, a rattling and thumping that got your attention, and you turned to see Mando doing something with his hands. _Sign language?_ Your BSL was rusty, but you were able to pick up a few words including ‘hunters’ and ‘danger’. The toddler-sized teddy bear threw its furry arms around quickly, throwing water everywhere in its response. ‘Bad men’, ‘friends’, ‘ _stolen’_ . _Stolen?_ You glanced over at the ruins of the campsite again, and between the waterlogged bodies you caught the glint of chains sinking in the mud, putting the puzzle together in your mind. Your bounty puck didn’t specify _what_ your target was smuggling, but by the urgent sounds of the ursine creature, you guessed that they had been smuggling _live animals,_ and whatever had decimated the camp had taken their ill-begotten quarries along with them.

Mando signed at you, but you only shrugged at his flurried hands. He went slower, and you picked the word ‘help’ out of all of his gestures. You nodded, and he signed back at the bears with the same phrase. The mysterious collection of soggy beasts melded back into the darkness of the forest; disappearing from view and leaving you with your packmate. Alone again, you pointed at the machine tracks, signaling your intent to follow them to their source. Mando nodded, taking a moment to check on the foundling that hovered along at his side before joining you at the trail. Cycling your visor again, you looked for the strange bear people you had just met, but your sensors picked nothing up in the pouring rain, _where’d they go?_

Like a pair of mist-wraiths you stalked your prey, following the deep indents of the machine that had ruined the smaller trees and shrubs that it had passed through, leaving a fearsome wake of broken branches and fallen leaves. Torrential rain filled the indents like so many small pools, threatening to wash even the deepest set tracks away, and you hurried to follow them before they were lost to the muck.

You felt the tremors of lumbering, mechanized steps through the soles of your boots long before you heard the Walker, the thunder of heavy equipment eventually making its way over the sound of the storm. You ran side by side with your Mandalorian through the mud, gliding like ghosts as you zeroed in on the prize, only splitting up to flank the repurposed Walker and its entourage when the blink of the bounty fob went nearly solid. _Target acquired._

Under the towering robotic biped, a collection of boarish looking poachers trudged along beneath the behemoth, dragging loaded cages behind them on hoverskiffs while they kept pace with the towering tank. Its crisp titanium white had been stained and striped over by years out in the weather, and its rusty joints creaked with every stride. You weren’t sure if you were pleased or _pissed_ that the collection of raiders accompanying the hulking machination were very-much _not_ Imps, but that begged the question: _where the hell did they find that thing?_

Even through the drenching rain you could see more of the bear people in the tiny cages, clinging to the bars of their confines; the sad sight making your heart drop and your blood boil. The collection of raiders would be the easy part, but the AT-ST could blast you to smithereens if it caught you in its sights, so it would need to be taken out first; or at least distracted. The best way to do that was from _inside,_ and the only way in was through the eye sockets of the durasteel beast.

You kept pace with the poachers, slinking silently through the shadows while you formulated a plan. The rain had put a serious damper on your communication abilities, and you wished you had been able to talk with Din _verbally_ before taking on such a challenge. A slew of poorly fabricated plans sped through your mind before something _plinked_ off of your mask, like a pebble hitting a window, and you took your eyes off the rag-tag raiders to squint upwards into the pouring rain. Another nut hit you square on your armored nose, and you flipped your sensor settings until a gaggle of warm splotches appeared in the trees above you. _There they are!_ Scurrying through the sprawling branches, the wildlings were traversing bridges and platforms built high in the trees, running over top of you with ease compared to your laboured muck trudging. 

A rope ladder was thrown to you, and you clambered up the narrowly spaced rungs until you were high up on the platform with the woolly creatures, who signed furiously at you, making you shrug. _Sorry, I don’t speak munchkin._ The smugglers were getting away from you, and you sped along the rickety wooden parapets, pushing the bears aside to get closer. At this height you were above eye level with the Walker, and you scanned ahead along the platforms to where a bridge was going over the iron giant’s path. If you could get to the bridge before the Walker passed underneath, you would be able to get the jump on the monstrosity. 

You flew to make your target, shaking water down with each step that blended right into the still-pouring rain and hid your approach. Down below across the muddy path you caught the glint of beskar between the dark foliage, a quick flash, but unmistakable. Through the wooded underbrush he ghosted like quicksilver, and though he was no stranger to you, you felt a sickening curdle run up your spine at the reminder of his _ferocity._ The armored bounty hunter was a living weapon, and you felt your heart skip a beat at the sight of him in his natural element. _These poor bastards don’t stand a chance._ The blood in your veins burned like acid when you saw him draw his rifle, signaling the start of the attack. Visor contact was made between you and your oathsworn, nodding in succession: _Three… two… go!_

The Mandalorian sprang from the darkness like a phantom, torrents of water streaming off of his silver as he clocked the nearest man with the butt of his rifle. You flew into action high above the vengeful poltergeist, launching yourself off of the bridge and onto the slippery roof of the Walker. With the security detail distracted by vicious beskar below, you were able to swing into the eyehole of the Walker unchallenged, howling like a banshee while you drew your blades. The vibros sang their wicked song as you sliced with abandon, carving a bloody path through the interior of the leviathan. Vorpal blades went snicker-snack through the guts of your first target, then cried steel tears when you blocked a swinging vibro-axe, kicking your mud soaked boots at the shins of your assailant until they keeled over, revealing the soft spot of their neck to your iron bite. 

**_Twang! Twang twang!_ ** Blaster shots ricocheted off your armored face, bouncing around the cabin as you pounced on the last man, knocking his blaster away with one singing blade and sinking into his chest with the other. Surrounded by your kills, you grabbed at the steering controls, veering the durasteel behemoth through the infantrymen still on the ground; cackling like a madwoman at the _crunch_ under your metal feet. Below you, Mando dived to avoid your enormous steps, rolling away into the safety of the underbrush where he wouldn’t get crushed by your bloodthirsty dance. You bore down on the steering trigger, firing the main turret in a wild spray that did more damage to the surrounding woods than to the ants crawling at your feet. 

The Walker responded poorly to you hauling on the controls, teetering around on its big chicken legs like a drunk until the hydraulic pinions became crossed and you were riding the thing to the ground; narrowly avoiding the prisoner skiff as you fell. You were thrown against the wall when the legged tank hit the mud, along with the bloodsoaked bodies of your victims, smothering you with their dead weight. The fallen assault vehicle tilted sideways as it slid face first into a waterlogged ditch, and the cabin began to fill with swampy, silt-laden water. Kicking and thrashing at the corpses, you struggled to get free as water and muck began to seep into the cabin, threatening to drown you in a grave filled with your own kills. 

Outside in the storm, the remaining poachers met a quick death between Mando’s armored fists and the end of his blaster, soaking the already oversaturated soil with their blood. The beskar fiend claimed the last of the smuggler’s souls before he bound over to the fallen Walker that had you trapped inside, and the _thud thud thud_ of his boots kicking at the stubborn hatch bar resonated in the cabin until he loosened it enough to turn the release wheel. Rain drenched your face as the door opened high above your head, just out of reach of the yellow gloves that were grasping for you. You tried to jump, to climb up the overturned floor to get closer, even launching off of the pile of corpses didn’t put you close enough for your companion’s reach. If you waited long enough, you might be able to _swim_ to the door, if the mud didn’t suck you under first. 

_-fwip!-_ **_SNAP!_ ** The familiar grapple shot out from his vambrace and tangled around your outstretched arm, hauling you up painfully by your wrist until you were close enough for him to grab, and you let him scoop you out of the sinking tank and into the heavy rain. You both slipped down the wet durasteel and over the twisted legs of the beast until you were up on the muddy path, slogging through the dredged up sediment as best you could until you were at the loaded hoversled. Aboard, the frantic bear creatures whooped and hollered, looking like a pack of excited mops with their rain soaked fur. 

Your vibroblades _screeched_ against the bars of the cage, making your ears ring, and you stuffed the singing daggers back to your belt. Drawing your blaster, you waved the little creature away from the cage door, shooting at the lock until it blew apart. Behind you, Mando did the same, signing at the sentient animal to cover their face before he blasted the confines apart. All the captives were freed in short order, and you helped them down into the mud one at a time. They scuttled away from you into the open arms of their tribemates that were waiting for them beneath the trees. 

Soft, soggy bear paws patted your knees when you reached the welcoming party, and you guessed that was their way of saying ‘thank you’. At your side, your armored companion was signing quickly at the first bear you had met, who signed rapidly back at him between garbled roars. Through your rainstreaked visor you saw him beckon to you, and you cupped your hands around your ears in an attempt to hear him yelling through the unrelenting downpour. 

“Go...camp...shelter!?” You nodded enthusiastically at the few words you caught, the idea of getting out of the ice cold rain was enough for you to agree to, and you ran back over to the battlefield to where you had squashed the poachers beneath the boots of the iron giant. There was no way you would get the ruined corpses into carbonite, so you would have to consign yourself to bringing back a trophy in lieu of bodies to collect your credits with. With a fury you carved away at a busted skull until you were able to pull one of the boarish tusks; hoping that it would have enough of a biosig to register on a code reader. When you rose back up from your butchery, you caught the black hole glare of the Mandalorian’s visor, watching you intently over the heads of the wildings that surrounded him. _The two of you must make such a sight_ , you thought to yourself, _an armored ghost and a bloodsoaked banshee._

You sauntered through the mud up to your man, letting the rain that fell wash the gore off your gloves. He pulled the fob from his belt, the light flashing rapidly when he touched it to the bloody tusk until it went solid, indicating a successful chain code link. _That’ll work!_ You could tell by the tilt of his helmet that he had watched you take your trophy, and knowing how much he loved your ferocity you guessed he was flashing you those sharp canines of his behind the beskar. Taking a clean blade from your belt, you dragged the tip of the knife up the plate of his chest until you were tapping it against the edge of his helmet, a gentle reminder that you didn’t fuck around. The show of prowess had him grabbing at your waist, groping at your waterlogged sides til you were pressing your body against his frigid armor. 

The _pat pat pat_ of paws on your leg again startled you back to reality, and you cocked your head down at the wildlings that were trying to get you to follow them back to camp. Your _riduur_ pulled away from you to fuss with his buttons, summoning the cloaked jellyfish to float out from behind the trees, and you dashed over to check on the state of your foundling. Inside the hoverpram he sat like a little sultan, still warm and dry, though he was covering his ears to try and save himself from the roar of the rain. _Poor little guy! That’s gotta be so loud in there!_ He squeeked as though he could read your mind, tugging on his sail-like ears with the saddest face you’d ever seen. 

The bear people guided your party through the inky woods, seemingly uninhibited by the slithering roots underfoot as they bound through the dark. Something thundered over the sound of the storm, a low, continuous rumble that got louder as you followed the warm splotches in your thermal sights. You soon came to a furiously raging river, its banks swollen almost to the breaking point with the floodwaters, and the white-capped rapids nipped at the underside of a narrow bridge that ran over top. The short, woolly bipeds scuttled over the swaying bridge, and you waited for the lightweight creatures to cross the sprawling length before you took your first step. 

The soaked boards squeaked underfoot with a threatening creak, making adrenaline surge coldly through your veins at the prospect of being lost to the raging waters below. You could tell that Mando had drawn the same conclusion, and ushered you ahead of him, the foundlings crib floating to your side. You grabbed at the baby buggy, opting to push the floating pram ahead of yourself, determined to make sure the foundling made it to the other side even if _you_ didn’t.

You hopped back and forth, trying to sow some courage into your legs without thinking about the raging waters you were about to challenge, locking eyes with the wildings far across from you so you wouldn’t look down. _Don’t look down, whatever you do, don’t look down_. You took a deep breath, letting your lungs fill with the icy spray of the galewinds before legging it at full speed over the swinging bridge. 

Only when the sound of mud squelched underfoot did you stop, throwing your arms up in a silent victory cheer at your success. Far behind you the faint grey smear of your husband barely contrasted around the grey smears falling from the sky, but the glint of his visor reflected back at you as he started over the bridge. Even over the churning waves you heard the creaking of the boards with his heavily armored steps, and you willed him to hurry up in your mind. The black hole slowly got closer, inching its way to you, then the - _crack!_ of wood breaking and the glint of his helmet falling below eye level made your guts turn over with fear.

_Fuck! He’s broken through!_ You tore back over the soggy bridge, deaf to the protesting whines of the wet suspensions until you were to him. He was stuck to his chest, the wide ridge of his breastplate having caught on the wood that still supported him while he clawed at the slippery boards. You dove to hook your arms under his shoulders, digging your heels into the flimsy planks in an attempt to lift him from the splintered hole. He latched onto you, trying his best to help with your efforts until you got him up high enough that he was able to get a knee out of the breach, and promptly broke the board under your combined weight, dropping you both into the cascades below. 

Everything went dark as the river swallowed you alive, and the cold of the icy depths made your flesh burn, but not as much as your lungs were burning as you fought for air. You broke the surface, only to be pulled right back down into the inky blackness of the raging river that was carrying you away. Something coiled around your waist, and in your drowning panic you flailed and punched at what you imagined was a serpent, but the muffled _clang_ of ironsong rang wet and ugly in your flooded half-bucket.

_Din!_ The weight of his armor was pulling him down, and though he was probably at a higher risk of drowning than you were, he was still trying to keep you above the water while he thrashed beside you. Locked together, you spiraled through the swells, the pair of you being thrown through the darkness of the raging river like toy boats in a hurricane, the ravenous waves promising to drown you if you weren’t dashed to pieces by the rapids themselves.

Sunk below the waves you heard the hiss of the imaginary snake in your ear, and you were _jerked_ against the flow of the tide by something halting your course downstream. Something wrapped around your waist, tight and constricting and threatening to slice you in half like a wire as it coiled under your ribs. You couldn’t see anything out of your visor, and you squinted through the rain streaked glass and crashing waves at the silvery line going up from below the swells into the branches overhead.

Sputtering and gasping for air, you clawed at the line, wrapping your arms around the armored body that was still under the waves. You coiled around your partner, desperate to keep Din’s body against yours while you waited for the line to pull you to safety, thrashing against the waves like a fish on a hook. The rapids smashed into you again and again until you groped blindly for the winching mechanism on Din’s arm; wondering why he hadn’t hoisted you out of the water yet. His grip on your waist was starting to loosen, held to you only by the grapple’s snare, and you smashed at the button panel of his wrist until the line went taut and you were both pulled against the raging tides toward the branches overhead. 

Hanging over the roaring waters by the line tangled around your body, you could see the brown smear where the river bank should be. Tightening your guts, you started to swing the pair of you over the water like an oversized pendulum until you were launched at the muddy shores, crashing unceremoniously into the muck. Nearly coughing up a lung, you gasped for air on the sodden ground, shaking the water from yourself in a futile act of defiance against the raging storm. Beside you, the dark form of your partner was motionless, and you rolled him over until he was face up. Water drained slowly from the underside of his flooded helmet, and your blood ran cold with the realization that there was nowhere else for it to go except into his lungs.

“ _Fucking bucket!_ ” You screamed against the raging gale, grabbing at your waterlogged cloak to throw over the two of you, trying to protect not only his body but also his creed as you dug your fingers under the edge of the armor. You hunted for the latches that kept the damn thing locked to his face until you were able to yank the fucker off; sending a flood of entirely-too-much water gushing out over your hands. It was dark as the void underneath the impromptu cover, and you flipped through your visor options around til you got to thermal, and choked at the cold violet hue of your husband’s face.

“Oh no you _fucking don’t!”_ Rising to your knees, you locked your palms together and pumped against where his sternum was hidden by his cuirass. “Get… back… here… you… fuckin… _ass… hole!_ ” You roared between chest compressions, only stopping your fervent tempo to toss your mask off and pinch his nose closed; tilting his head back to breathe what you hoped was life-giving air into his mouth. “Don’t… make… me… come… in… there… after… you!” You breathed into him again, fighting the urge to break down from the terror of losing him. “You’ve… gotta… take… care… of… _me!_ ” Still you pumped, the salt of tears on your lips as you pressed your mouth to his frigid face. “Take… care… of… **_our_ ** _…_ **_FOUNDLING!”_ **

_“HuuahAHCH!!_ **_ACH_ ** _! *cough! coUGH COU_ **_GH_ ** _!*”_ Brackish water spewed violently from his mouth between broken gasps for air, his arms flailing until his hands tangled in the soaked fabric of your clothes. He sputtered in your arms, desperate to fill his lungs with oxygen while you rolled him over on his side, letting the water flow out of him more freely.

“ _Din!_ Oh _fuck_ thank the _motherfucking Maker!_ You’re alright! Just breathe! _Breathe!”_ Cradling his head in your frozen fingers, you tried to soothe him by brushing the water from his hair, but maybe it was to comfort yourself even more. He heaved in your hands, coughing up lungfuls of water until he could start putting words together. 

“ _Cy- *cough!* Cyare?”_ You nodded, but in the dark of the cloak he probably couldn’t see you, so you bent to kiss his chilled face, hoping that you could usher some warmth into his veins. 

“I’m here! I’m here, my love, It’s ok. You’re ok!” 

“I’m...I’m so- _*cough!*_ I’m so sorry…”

“You should be, you bigass fuckin’ rustbucket.” You were unable to refrain from giving him hell, trying to use your venomous tongue to hide the tears that choked your words and threatened to leave you weeping at his side. “You swore an oath to me, _mister,_ and you think that going for a little swim is going to get you out of it? I don’t _think s_ o.” His heavy head rested on your knee, and you could feel tremors coursing through his body in quick bursts. You rocked with him between your hands, pressing more kisses to his damp face and stroking his wet curls. “You’re stuck with me, bucket boy, no ifs, ands, or buts.” 

“F-foundling? Where?”

 _Shit, good question._ The last you had seen the child’s pram was when you’d booked it over the rickety bridge, and you had left it with the other alien toddlers before rushing to save your man. “I can only handle one of you boys at a time, we’ll find him as soon as I know you’re good.” The hands that were clinging to you started to push against your chest, and you grabbed him before he could haul himself up. “Oh _no you don’t._ Not til I say so, damnit!”

“Gotta… g-gotta get...get the child.” He squirmed weakly against you, a far cry from the muscle and sinew you knew he was made out of. “Our...our baby _..._ ”

“He’s probably _fine,_ those bear thingies are probably running for their lives from that little terror, he can handle himself. Believe me, I know.” Din had gotten one arm under himself and was trying to prop himself up, and you wrapped your arms around him to guide him into a seated position, letting him lean heavily against you. “Take it _slow_. We’ll go get him soon enough, but I gotta make sure you’re good first, alright?” You felt the cloak blanket wiggle with his nod, and you kissed his face in the dark to thank him for following your wishes. 

Over the sound of the pelting rain you caught the slosh of many quick footsteps, followed by chittering and growling noises, and you grabbed at your belt for a dagger to defend yourself with; but Din pushed at your hands until you lowered the humming blade. With strengthless arms he pulled his helmet back over his head, allowing you to lift the shelter’s edge high enough to see the big, curious eyes of one of the bear people staring at you. More appeared behind the first, and many damp paws were reaching into your space, trying to help the two of you up out of the mud.

You breathed a mighty sigh of relief when a gaggle of them came into view, tugging the floating pram with them. The foundling had managed to push the edge of the oilskin back over the top of his crib, and though he was now sitting in his own private swimming pool, he looked overjoyed to be back with his _buir._ Since he was already drenched, you lifted him from the bucket and into both your arms, and the tiny beastie chirped away between you. 

“Booger! You’re alright! See, Mando? Told ya so.” Your husband only groaned, pushing his helmet against your unarmored forehead as best he could. You let the foundling out of your arms and into Din’s just long enough so that you could reach down and pull your own beskar out of the muck, giving it a couple of good shakes before setting the dirty thing back on your face. The grit of the riverbank soil felt _horrible_ on your skin, but like hell you were going near that raging torrent to clean it off. With all three of you soaked to the core and covered in mud, you pressed your shoulder up underneath Din’s arm, demanding that he lean his weight on you while you followed the munchkins back to their camp. 

Through the howling rain you heard a new sound, a low, deep blare like a klaxon, but the notes changed in between pitches; and you realized what you were hearing was some kind of music. Firelight peeked out from under the edge of a structure that was in no way naturally formed, the darkness of rusted durasteel absorbing any light that tried to illuminate the surrounding dark. When you got closer you felt your chest clench at the sight: it wasn’t a _building,_ it was a _ship,_ left abandoned to sink into the muck in one of the few clearings between the trees. The star cruiser was now awash with tangled overgrowth, saplings and ferns growing around it as it was slowly being claimed by the forest of Endor. 

The bear people led you into the wreckage, and you breathed a mighty sigh of relief when you were _finally_ out of the rain. Handmade structures littered the interior, built from wood and pelts that were cobbled together into a miniature city inhabited by the cutest creatures the galaxy had to offer; next to your foundling, of course. 

In the center of a ruined mess hall, a massive bonfire had been lit, and the wildlings were spinning and cheering around the pyre to the sound of bone horns; celebrating the return of their captured kin. The folkish music echoed joyously in the open space until it was reverberating in your very core, shaking the icicles from your bones. The rescued creatures ran circles around you, splashing you with their wet fur as they cheered your party on. If you had the energy, you would have laughed at the even _tinier_ wildling cubs that scurried to you, how could these things get any cuter? You set the foundling down, ushering him to go make friends while you dealt with your meat popsicle.

When you were close enough to the roaring flame, you dropped the two of you onto the loam covered floor, falling on your waterlogged backsides beside the blessed heat. Your stuffed sinuses finally drained, and you could smell something _wonderful_ cooking nearby. You waved at the attending munchkins that had brought you here, rubbing your belly in an attempt to communicate your wishes. Thankfully, they understood your bogus sign language, and a bowl of steaming hot something-or-other was pushed into your outstretched hands. The spicy broth cooked you from the inside out, and you felt your cheeks go rosey at the delightful burn that trickled down your throat. After taking another generous chug of the delicious soup, you turned to Din, trying to push the bowl into his feeble hands; but their tremors threatened to spill it on himself instead of into his mouth. 

“Tilt your helmet back.”

“I’m fine.”

“This is not up for debate, tilt your fucking helmet back or I’ll do it for you.” You rolled onto your knees until you were nearly on top of him, blocking any eyes that might catch a glimpse of the secrets that only your clan was privileged to. His hands fumbled at the side of his beskar, and you took it upon yourself to lift it for him, carefully tilting the drink to his lips. He coughed at the peppery tang of it, and you waited patiently until he nodded for more, holding on to the undersides of your hands with his own. When he drank what you determined was his fill, you set the steaming mug at your side and let the armor fall back into place. His iron body was still shaking, the heat of the fireside not strong enough to penetrate his many layers. “Sweetheart, your armor’s gonna have to come off, you gotta get warm.”

“No.”

“ _No?_ If I don’t get you out of there you’re going to get sick, is that what you want? To get sick?”

He sighed, letting his heavy bucket fall forward. “No...”

“Good.” You began the arduous labour of stripping him down, shooing away the wildlings that kept trying to help with their soggy bear paws. Diligently you peeled the layers off, disheartened at the water that gushed out from each lifted plate, _fuck_ , no wonder he was so heavy. Beskar at your side, you started on the flack jacket, making sure that it was kept the closest of all his gear with its precious secrets. “Arms up.” Suspenders fell at his side, and you pulled the sopping wet undershirt off of him, tossing it aside with a _splat_ and leaving him sitting in his trousers. His skin was clammy and damp, cold as ice under your fingers that sent fresh chills to your spine. All you had to offer was one of the tarps that were in your bag as coverage, and you threw the crinkly thing over him and crawled underneath to start working off your own soaked layers next to your oathsworn.

Getting your clothing off was almost more difficult than getting Din’s peeled away, the drenched fabric making it nearly impossible to lift your tired arms. Tangled in the heavy garb, you struggled to pull yourself free when you felt chilly fingers digging in after you, the zesty broth having worked some strength back into the mighty warrior's muscles. You smiled at his glossy visor when you were out of your tunic, wishing you could see his lovely eyes instead, but you were happy enough that he was moving again. You kissed at his armored face, then started to collect the scattered clothing to find somewhere to hang them up to dry. The wildlings gawked at you, but you guessed that they were more concerned with your change in appearance than your actual partial nudity. 

With your gear drying by the fire, you sat back down next to where your man was sipping at the mug on his own, and you squished yourself up against his side, trying to foster some body heat between you. He rumbled at your touch, knocking you almost too hard against the side of your unarmored noggin with his helmet. With the tarp wrapped around the two of you like a blanket, you watched the fuzzy creatures that tropsed past you, giggling at their antics. A couple of the bear people came up to you with baskets of fruit in their paws, pushing them toward you with more trilling growls that you could almost imagine as words. 

You tapped your fingers to the bottom of your chin, then gestured outwards without turning your palm, signing ‘ _thank you’_ to your furry hosts. They chittered at you before going to fetch more baskets of goodies for you to take until you were surrounded by stacks of produce that you would never be able to finish; and you guessed that something had been lost in translation. Laughing, you tried to get them to take some of it back, but they growled at you and bared their teeth, so you sat like a pair of forest deities as the pile of offerings stacked around you grew higher. 

Eventually one of them carried the foundling back to you, the stout creature struggling to hold your tubby buddy, followed by a parade of bear cubs that almost had you in fits. “Heya booger, did you make some friends?” He squeaked and wiggled in the wildlings arms until it let him go, and he tottered toward you on his stubby legs, tripping over the many baskets until you had him in your lap. “There’s my guy. Look, papa’s here too.” 

Battle-scarred arms took the child from you, coiling around the alien baby like a living castle, rocking him softly side to side while he rubbed his child’s ears. The heartwarming moment was somewhat interrupted by a snub nosed cub trying to crawl into your lap, looking up at you expectantly with their wondrous eyes and making grabby paws at you for uppies. You tutted at the creature, “If y’all don’t stop being so cute, we’re going to end up adopting you as well.” Two more clambered onto you, sitting on your knees while they started digging through the many baskets at your sides, and you were more than happy to share with them. Sneaking one of the baskets up over their furry heads, you nudged at Din’s side, trying to offer some to him and his son. He turned the foundling around, and the little devil gleefully dug into the harvest, stuffing his itty bitty mouth full. 

“Mando? You want some?” He shook his head, though he should have learned by now you weren’t actually _asking_ . “You gotta eat, get your strength back.” After some silence, he nodded, and started to dig through the bucket of fruit. Between trying to pick out the berries, holding the foundling, _and_ lifting his helmet up to eat, he was nearly dumping everything all at once, and you swatted at his fumbling hands. “Fucksake, let me help you.” Grabbing a handful, you picked a small berry out and pushed it up under the edge of his helmet; knowing that there was just enough space between the metal and the man for a finger or two. 

He flinched at the intrusion, but you felt the fruit pass over his covered lips and away, and you waited for him to swallow it before fishing for another. You gently guided another berry up into the cold dark of his armor, brushing past his scruffy chin as you withdrew. "More?" You asked, and he nodded softly. You plucked another treat from the basket, but when you pressed the sweet up to his hidden mouth you jumped at the feel of his tongue flickering over your fingertips, the smooth muscle sending tendrils of heat up your arms. You cocked him a sideways glare, and the tilt of his visor flashed with the reflection of the fire. 

"Can I have another, please?" His voice was groggy with the dampness still settled in his lungs, but the gentleness of his request was too sweet to deny. You went for a juicier fruit this time, and again he lapped at your fingers, a soft hum breezing out of his modulator as he cleaned the nectar from your hand. Once more you fed him, doing your damnedest to keep a straight face when he sucked your digits into his hot mouth, nipping at your tips just enough to make your insides clench around nothing. _Stars above._

"Thank you, _mesh'la."_ He purred when he released you, and you tried to distract yourself by wiping the berry juice from the foundling's face, ignoring the heat pooling in your belly that wasn't from the soup. The baby cooed at you from his father’s knee, then pointed at the cubs that were still clustered around you, gibbering excitedly. Din lifted the baby up in front of himself so that the child would be at eye level with his visor. “What’s that, womp rat? You- _*cough!*_ You want to go see your friends? Alright, but mind your manners.” He set the baby down so that he could scurry away, and the collection of tiny wildlings went galumphing after him. With just the two of you under the tarp now, you watched as your half-naked companion reached for another one of the baskets, this one loaded full of bright purple plums. “Would you like one, _cyare?”_

He selected one with a soft, colorful rind, holding it up for you to taste, and you leaned forward to accept his offering. The succulent treat was pushed to your lips, and you sank your teeth into its flesh, trying, and failing, to keep the juice from running down your chin. The tilted visor watched you with its fiery gaze, and you imagined his soulful eyes tracking the droplets on your face. The pad of his thumb caressed at your mouth, and you let him push the stray juice to your lips, licking at him playfully. Again he brought the fruit up for you to take another bite, and you sucked at the pinkish flesh almost _too_ noisily to be anything other than flirtatious. Din held the plum to you for as long as it took for you to finish it, careful not to let you swallow the stone at its center. When the fruit was finished, he tossed the pit aside and ran his thumbs over your lips with a gentle touch. 

“I want another one.” You said, kissing at his hands, and immediately another plum materialized in front of you. You bit into the fruit, not even bothering to stop the juice that ran down your face and onto your bare breasts, amazed that you were so brazenly flirting with each other in the dead center of the wildling community; but the creatures paid you no mind, busy with their own grooming and eating to care about the strange human activities. Din pulled the plum away from you before you could finish eating it, instead opting to tear off a small chunk. You held your mouth open, sticking your tongue out for him to place the fruit on, but the treat wasn’t the only thing that made its way past your lips. The pad of his thumb brushed over the edges of your teeth while you balanced the piece in your mouth, cupping your chin with his fingers so he could circle your lips. You swallowed the fruit, lapping at his thumb while you sucked it down, and the low rumble he made was _heavenly._ “Do you wanna try one?”

“I don’t think that will fit under my helmet, _cyare.”_

“Well then,” You ran your hands over his arms until you were dragging your fingers down his chest, relieved to feel that his skin was _warm_ to the touch. _Phew._ “Why don’t we go somewhere that you can take that thing off, hmm?” He glanced around the sprawling room, and though there were plenty of wildling homes, none of them would be big enough for a human, let alone two. Noticing the way he scoped the area, you rose to your feet, pulling the edge of the tarp closer around his shoulders. “You stay here, I’ll go find us somewhere private, ok?” He nodded, catching your hand before you got too far away and pulling your knuckles to tap against his brow. _I love you, too._

You pulled a stick from the blaze to light your way, leaving your visor by the fire to dry, and delved into the darker reaches of the fallen craft. Starships were once your home, long before the _Razor Crest_ there were the Corellian-built cruisers that you had grown up on, and this one was no different. Though its walls were creeping with vines and its power source had long died out, the layout was familiar enough for you to make your way through the ruined hold. Skirting around the many ursine dwellings, you walked down a long corridor, poking your head through the half-open doors. 

_Med bay, galley, Walker bay -oh- officers quarters, captains quarters…_

Towards the bow of the ship was a closed door, and you knew from your history that this had to be the bridge. The other rooms had been messed pretty badly by the bear people, but it looked to you like they hadn’t been able to get through the blast shielding of the flight deck. You set your torch upright and got to work on the panel in the corner, even without power you could get the bulkhead open if you could pop the locking mechanism manually. 

When you were just a scamp, freshly plucked from Corellia's sickly shores, you had tried to make yourself useful by getting into small spaces; though more often than not it just got you into trouble. _Bilgerat_ they had called you, a common nickname for stowaways. Vent and duct work was where you’d cut your teeth, but as you grew and your fingers became more agile you were given tasks around the rest of the ship, gruntwork to keep a teenager busy; but those small odds and ends made you a jack of all trades and an asset to any crew. It wasn’t until your wagging tongue and listless singing caught the ears of your superiors were you given a real job. A _title_ . _A name._

Taking a blade from your belt, you carefully unscrewed the durasteel cover and started picking away at the gunk that had built up over time. You could hear the chief of engineering nagging at you in the back of your head, ‘Ya can’t _shout_ a door open, no matter ‘ow much ya point that vile tongue a’yers at it, ya gots’ta use somethin’ _sharp.’_ _Let’s see… move this here, get my blade right under… there!_ The _CLANG_ of the safety lock echoed ominously down the empty hallway, and you held your breath as you waited for the curious beasties to come investigate. 

No soft footsteps echoed back to you, so you started prying the door open, fighting against the overgrowth until you had a hole big enough to slip through. Holding the fading firelight aloft, you checked your surroundings,and were pleasantly surprised at the state of the wide, triangular space. The years had been kinder to it than the rest of the ship, and though it was cluttered with dried leaves it could still almost be considered clean. You held the firelight aloft as you padded carefully through the once-proud space, the sound your footsteps silent against the roar of the storm.

Above you the rain pelted against a sloping transparisteel window, though you could _hear_ the weather raging away more than you could actually _see_ it. Something besides the cold air gave you chills, and you squinted into the dark, almost chucking your torch when you caught the glint of white armor. Still seated in the captain's chair was the captain himself, and though his withered husk was no longer a threat, you still fished a blade from your thigh holsters before you got closer. The tarnished white of his duraplast and the flash of his lipless grin made your flesh crawl, and the urge to light him up like a papery firework became almost overwhelming. 

The day had been soaked more thoroughly with death than it had been from rain, but the decaying corpse made you more uneasy than every kill you had made out in the storm. Inching closer, you caught the glint of steel in his teeth, the remnants of a shock capsule still wedged between his molars. _You coward, you took the easy way out, didn’t you?_ How could you expect anything less from the Empire, _lily-livered skinks_ , the lot of them. _Enough of you! I’m the captain now!_ You lifted the human piñata out of his grave, marching to the trash chute and dumping the husk down into the dark. _Bye bye, fucko._

Alone, _truly_ alone now without the grinning skull of the forgotten captain, you paced the room, checking for more surprises. Dust had settled on almost every surface between the vines that creeped their way over the many consoles and monitors where once entire platoons of engineers and navigators had guided the mighty ship through the stars. As dark as it was, you closed your eyes, imagining the hustle and bustle of crews long past, the bark of captain's orders and the salty rebuke of their officers echoing in your memories. Your legs moved on without you, eyes open or closed mattered not as you wandered through the bridge on muscle memory until you were at the communication officers post. 

_How long has it been,_ you wondered, _since you had sat in that chair? A decade? Maybe more?_ The chair in question was garbage, but the microphone was still jutting out of the dashboard, and you brushed your fingers against the indents of the receiver. _If only there was power in this old girl, you could really make those wildings think you were a god._

It was only by sheer _arrogance_ that you had been given that chair, your ability to snake your tongue into the mind of any who opposed you was unparalleled. You weren’t _qualified_ by any stretch of the word, but your superior officers had become ensorcelled by your siren songs, and you had been seated at the microphone to relay the bridge’s orders to the other units by day and unleash your starborn melodies by night. Though your captain’s word was _law,_ your voice was what brought your crew _solace_ when they would rest their weary heads _._ You hummed to yourself in the dark, unable to resist the call of days long gone. 

> _“In a tower of flame as my starship fell, I was there. I know not where they laid my bones, it could be anywhere. But when fire and smoke had faded, the darkness left my sight, And I found my soul in a spaceship's hold, riding home on a trail of light.”_

Your starsong _resonated_ high and mighty through the bridge, oh those _acoustics!_ You loved the Iron Mistress that you’d been wed to on the arm of a Mandalorian, but the _Crest’s_ cramped quarters couldn’t compare to the _amphitheater_ that was a cruiser's bridge. 

> _“And my wings are made of tungsten, my flesh of glass and steel. I am the pride of stars gone by for the power that I wield. Once upon a lifetime, I died a pioneer; Now I sing within a spaceship's heart. Does anybody hear?”_

As if the sky itself heard your pleas, the storm roared and flashed wickedly outside the window, but lost in your reverie the thunderous boom sounded like _gunfire._

Repressed memories exploded to life behind your eyes, and clear as day you saw it all come rushing back: the swath of stars above a glowing world, the streaks of cannon shots blasting at your eyes, colliding with the star cruiser’s shielding in vicious cerulean ripples of St Elmo’s fire. Your ship wouldn’t last much longer under the assault, the order had to be given. 

_Fire._

Forecanons erupted to life, snuffing out the assailants like a reaper's scythe, carving a fiery path through the fray. The strength of the canons rocked your ship to its core, the _thud thud thud_ of ionized plasma decimating the scrambled jets in your line of sight. Another hailing of shots peppered overhead, flickering across the transparisteel and drawing your attention to the radiant green halo that was coming to life on the surface of the mechanical moon your ship had been charged to escort. The corona of hellfire _blazed_ and shot a beam of decimation into the world below. 

And then it was gone. 

Nothing but dust remained of the planet below, wafting away on the solar winds like the seeds of a dandelion. Around you your crewmates _cheered,_ but all you had heard that day was the sound of _screams._

You never set foot on a star cruiser again, and though you doubted the rebel alliance would take you in, the Guild asked no questions; and the next years of your life were spent hunting down the remnants of the Empire that had raised you. 

“Permission to come aboard, captain?”

The modulated words behind you tore you violently from your recollections of despair, but you were thankful to be rescued from your tumultuous spiral. In the doorway that you had pried open stood the man you had chosen to walk the stars with, leaning against the sabotaged bulkhead. He had thrown his flack jacket over his shoulders, and under one arm was a basket full of fabric and beskar. A light on the side of his helmet shone like a sunbeam through the dark room, rivaling the torch you had since forgotten. 

“Heya bucket boy, you feeling better?” You asked, happy to leave your nightmares behind on the rusted dashboard as you wandered back to him.

He nodded. “Thanks to you, _mesh’la._ I thought I heard your voice and I got worried. I’m glad to see you’re ok.” 

“You’re glad _I’m_ ok? You almost fucking _died!_ ” He stiffened at the reminder, shirking away from you. 

“I’m so sorr-”

“Don’t you _dare_ finish that sentence, rustbucket.” You crossed the last few steps to him and grabbed his helmet by the recess of its cheeks, forcing him to dip his head to yours as you crashed your brow against his, maybe a little too hard for your unarmored skull; but you were determined to connect with him in the most sacred way he knew. The loaded basket under his arm hit the ground with a _thwump_ when he dropped it, clutching at the sides of your jaw to hold you to him. 

“ _Cyare… please,_ I want to tell you I’m sorry.”

“Shush, I don’t want your apology. I want you.” You met his visor, trying not to squint while you pawed at the highbeam on the side of his armor until it was out of your eyes. “I want you here with me, alive and well, and I got you now, so it’s all good, alright?” 

The pads of his thumbs brushed lovingly at your cheeks as he pushed you gently away so that he could see you better. “No, it’s _not_ alright. It’s not… I can’t…” _Fuck,_ he was so _bad_ at stringing words together in Basic. Mando’a was so much _easier,_ so much less _clunky_ . He could parse entire lines of poetry to you in the words of the ruined world he had left behind, compare your beauty to the light of the stars, your radiance to the glow of many moons. Mando’a could be so much _deeper_ than Basic, too. He wasn’t lying when he’d told you _cyare_ was like _cyar'ika_ but with more meaning. It carried the weight of the galaxy with it, and the first time he had spoken it to you was when he had accepted your silent, albeit accidental proposal. _Cyare means love, love like no other. A love worth dying for._

You couldn’t hear him over the galewinds that threatened to blow you into the river as you flew over the bridge to his rescue, but in that harrowing moment he had been telling you to _go back,_ to leave him, let him go. He would sacrifice himself a hundred times over for you or for the foundling, but the thought of _you_ dying for _him_ made him as sick as it had when you had laid bleeding out on the cot aboard the _Crest. That’s not how this is supposed to work, damnit! I’m supposed to be the one protecting her and the foundling. I’m supposed to be the one who risks their life._ Gladly he would have laid down his life, as long as the last thing that he knew was of your safety, but then you had dashed to his side, and plunged into the icy depths along with him. 

He was honorbound to you now, first in body and then in soul by the sacred oath of _riddurok._ You were the foremost thought in his mind as you were both swallowed by the raging swells, but as the weight of his armor dragged him under and his eyes began to darken when his flooded helmet tried to make its kill, he knew it was all over for him. He’d fired the grapple, making sure that his last act in the waking world would be to save you, even if it meant he would drown. 

_Swear to me to protect me with your life_ was the vow that he had sworn, and he was determined to keep it to the bitter end, as your own oath had entailed. You only knew a few words of his adopted tongue, and maybe in time that would change, but for today the universal language would have to do. He breathed deep, trying valiantly to cobble together what he wanted to say. “Putting you in danger is not something a _good husband_ would do.”

He hoped that was enough to convey what he was feeling to you, but the way your brows cocked in that crooked way told him that his sentiment might have gotten a little lost. 

“Ok… but getting you _out_ of danger is something that a good _wife_ would do.” 

_Oh._

He hadn’t expected that, just like he hadn’t expected to wake back up on that muddy shore with you tearing him a new asshole, but maybe that's _exactly_ what he should have expected. You were more stubborn and headstrong than a wild blurg, and you would lock horns with death itself to protect the ones you loved.

And you loved him.

Your hands had drifted down to his chest, noticing the faint purplish bruise that had begun to creep its way over his sternum from your compressions. He winced when you brushed against it, though you guessed it was more from the reminder of your ordeal than from actual pain. “We’re in this together now, and if that means I have to break a rib or two to keep you kickin’, then so be it.” 

He pulled the jacket off of his shoulders, digging through the breast pocket, the jingling, scraping sound making your heart sink at the memory of what he kept there. _What if you had crushed them?_ The opalescent fossils were pulled into the light, as perfect and steadfast as they had been when you had pushed them onto his helmet and asked him to walk beside you for all your days. The flak was tossed to the basket on the floor while he turned the teeth over in his palm. “I guess these really are good luck.” 

“Well _obviously,_ that’s why I gave them to you _._ ” You sassed the mighty warrior. Din pushed the jewels into their recesses with a cocky tilt of his visor, and you kissed at each of the radiant fangs, asking him with your lips for him to finally take that damn helmet off, regardless of how pretty it was now. “Is this private enough? I need to check your face for leeches.” He turned away from you to the bulkhead, sliding it closed before doing as you asked. The beskar was lifted away, taking the light source with it, and you took the helmet from him to use the spotlight for your inspection. “Fuck me _sideways_. _”_

“Well, I mean, if you _insist_ .” His lopsided smile curled upwards under sunken eyes, and you almost dropped the light when you reached up to touch his pale skin, still cold and clammy from keeping the wet armor on for too long. You brushed his matted hair off of his brow, swearing that you could feel _ice crystals_ against your fingertips. _Fucksake,_ he looked like _death._

“Shit balls of _hell_ , Din, that fucking bucket is gonna be the death of you.” You turned and set the offending beskar down on a low table, pointing the light as best you could towards the pair of you and throwing shadows around the room. The shades that danced over his face gave him the same haunted look as the corpse you had chucked down the garbage chute, and you felt a nasty chill run through your spine at the memory of that lipless grin. _Not on my watch._

Though your skin was still a little cool, it was leagues warmer than his, and you pulled him in for a world-erasing hug, letting him bury his nose in the crook of your shoulder. His _body_ was warm enough, but the insulated armor had kept the heat of the fire from reaching his head, and you hoped the heat of your heart would be enough to thaw him. Whether it was or not didn’t seem to matter to him, and he sank against you, dragging his hands down your back until they were resting against the span of your hips. You kissed his frigid face, feeling the pricks at the corners of your eyes when you realized his skin was no warmer than it had been on the river’s shore. 

You dug your fingers through his curls, trying to squeegee the water out until it was running down his spine. He groaned against you, and you felt him shiver at the cold drops against his warm back; under better circumstances you would have laughed at the goosebumps that prickeled his skin. 

“Who were you talking to? I know I heard your voice earlier.” He whispered softly against your ear, punctuating his question with more soft kisses. 

“Just singin’ to myself.” That wasn’t a lie, but maybe it wasn’t the whole truth either.

“Can I hear it?” 

You nodded sheepishly against the side of his head, taking a deep breath that pulled the off-kilter scent of him into your lungs. He smelled like the rain, though it was probably more _river water_ than petrichor. That mixed with the smell of woodfire smoke on top of his persistent warrior musk brought the tranquility of the forest without the storm through your mind. _Peaceful._ Caught in the cold limelight of the helmets glare, you sang the starsong back to him, lower and slower than you had when you were by yourself for your solo audience. It was just above a whisper, only enough for him alone to hear. _A full house was overrated anyway._

It wasn’t until you’d gotten a few lines in when you felt it, the gentle _sway_ between the two of you, not quite dancing, but just as meaningful. You couldn’t dance, and you were willing to bet good credits that neither could he, but that didn’t matter in the slightest. It was just the two of you, arms wrapped around each other while you tried to warm him away from the grave, and him lovingly holding on tight. Din’s hands glided over your bare back and around your shoulders until they were sinking back down again to your waist, rocking you slowly with him back and forth to the ballad of the stars.

You sauntered through the chorus again, and this time another sound beside the tenor of your own voice met your ears. With his face still pressed to the side of yours, your husband was _humming,_ not in the way he usually did like when he was trying to flirt. No, he was humming _along_ , just a tad off key, but his rich, wavering baritone swelled underneath your own voice until it was carrying your words up to the riveted sky where they could contest with the roar of the rain. 

And it was beautiful.

Nobody in your years had ever made you _cry_ as much as this man did, and as the last words of your song floated away you wiped the corners of your eyes off on the scruff of his face, hoping that he wouldn’t catch the stars caught in your lashes. His honeydark pools missed nothing, and they fluttered shut as he kissed your tears away, but the feel of _warm_ skin on yours brought more of them anyway. 

“Please don’t cry, Starsong.” He soothed, slowly kissing over the ridges of your cheekbones until he was pressed to your lips. The sound of your new name made you smile against him. _Stars above, how many_ names _had you been given?_ Of all your titles, this one was your probably favorite, especially when it poured out from the mouth of the man you adored. You met his doe-like eyes with your own, watching the way they darted back and forth, still amazed that there was so much _expression_ that was hidden by the beskar. He smiled back, a little bashfully, but nevertheless his sweet face sent warmth to the depths of your heart. 

Unwilling to resist him any longer, you crashed your lips against him, hearing him inhale sharply at your bravado. He still tasted like the fruit you had given him, sweet and succulent as a summer day, the flavor of him vaporizing the sound of storms, both inside and out. Your lips fit so perfectly against his, as if they had been made for each other, and you hummed into him when you felt the faintest touch of his tongue. Deepening your kisses, you went after the smooth muscle with your own, making him groan and dig his hands into your sides.

 _Maker save him,_ he just can’t help himself with you, and the tender moment between you is engulfed in fire as he licks deeper into your mouth, rumbling at the whine you make. The whiskers on his face tickle at the side of your nose, almost making you sneeze when he tilts his head to chase the taste of you further. Sharp teeth catch on your lower lip when he bites at the edge of your mouth, the snag of his canines are soft, but _demanding,_ and you gladly throw him off his attack when you bite him back. He pulls away from you to growl in your ear, but the effect is immediately lost when your chest tears away from his with a - _shtiiiiiick-._

The fruit juice. You’d thrown your modesty right out the window many moons ago, and had completely ignored the fact that your tunic had been left drying by the fire when you went to go find a space to let Din free himself of his armor without tarnishing his creed. The plum juice from your devious game at the fireside had long since dried, but mixed with the sweat of your bodies it had become sticky again, and your unarmored companion only cocked his head at the strange sensation for a moment before he was diving for the nectar on your chest. 

“ _Riduur’iiikaaa~”_ He crooned against your flesh, dragging his tongue over the swell of your breasts and up the length of your neck until he was nipping at your jaw. “You taste _delicious._ ” You could only giggle at the flip-flopping desires of your man, letting yourself get caught up in the affections of the mighty warrior that loved you so. His lips curled upwards in a wicked grin against your skin at the sound of your laughter, and your mirth was gracelessly snuffed when he _sucked_ at the tender side of your neck, leaving a trail of blooming marks down the side of your throat. _Mine._

You laced your fingers in his damp hair as he made his way over your collarbone and back down to lap at the ambrosia coating the flesh that bounced so sweetly between his palms. He took a hardened tip between his lips, sucking the tender bud into his hot wet mouth, and though he was already sending you _spinning,_ you couldn’t help but feel the faintest flicker of pride that you had cast all the ice from his veins. The residual worry floated back out from the edges of your mind, and you kissed the top of his head to get his attention, if only briefly. 

“Are you feeling ok though? Is it warm enough here for you? You’ve already been through enough shit today and the last thing we need is for you to get sick.” The half-lidded gaze that hauled itself up to meet your eyes made you feel like a lust-drunk fool. _Stupid question._

“My _wife,_ my _love.”_ Stars _above_ , the way he just _let_ those words flow so readily made the heat in your chest surge all the way to the fingertips that he held so lightly between his own. He brought your hand up to his lips to kiss at the backs of your knuckles in that slow, deliberate pattern that sent electric shocks through your spine until it couldn’t stand you up straight anymore. The Mandalorian pulled you to him with another round of fervent kisses before leaning away from you, flashing you a devilish grin. “I know _exactly_ where I can get myself warmed up.”

 _Hot damn._ “Oh yeah? Where’s that?” He chuckled darkly at your feigned ignorance, as if you didn’t _know._

“Between your _legs, cyar’ika”_ The last of your moxie dissolved like mist against a wildfire, but you knew he liked it when you made it a challenge, and you faked your best bemused face at him while he spooled himself around you. 

“Hmm… I dunno… There’s probably _fish_ swimming around in my chonies after being in the rain for so long.” You snickered, but the look you got from him was _decimating._ “What? Can’t take a joke?”

“Your pussy belongs to _me,_ there better not be any damn _fish_ in that sweet cunt of yours.” 

“ _Din!!” The audacity of this man!_ His rumbling laugh sent blazes over your skin, and your mouth was swallowed by his again to distract you from his wandering hands. Your startled cry disappeared down his throat when he plunged his hand down the front of your pants,hunting for the offending sea life that vexed you so. Calloused fingertips searched blindly through your folds, and you sank your nails into his shoulders while he pushed the devious digits through your slick heat.

“Hm, no fish here.”

“ _Fuck you.”_

“Alright.” You floundered against his chest as he sank a finger into your dripping cunt, quickly followed by a second all the way to his knuckles. He had you _squirming_ around his strong hands, but you became determined not to lose a game he didn’t know you were playing, and you stuffed your own mitt down the front of his sodden trousers to grope at his cock. 

“Found one.”

“It’s _cold.”_

 _“-Snrk-”_ You snorted an ugly laugh at him, but he ignored you and speared his fingers into you harder, pumping against your insides until your body was quaking in time with his thrusts. Not to be outdone, you palmed at his cool member, dragging nimble fingers along his shaft until you were cupping his balls. A choked, needy whine broke its way out past his teeth, and you gleefully watched his resolve break down across his handsome face. The pace of his pulsing hand fell out of time, the slick digits worming their way out to tease at your clit. His dark eyes flashed with shameless lust at your mewls, no doubt enjoying the same show of dissolution that you were. 

“Why don’t you pop a squat and let me take care of you, eh tinman?” You moaned breathy in his ear, biting at his lobe and making him sink his teeth into the meat of your shoulder while he tried not to crumble from your assault. Another gentle tug on his cock had him twitching at the waist and leaning heavily against you while you stoked his fire.

“Haven’t… haven’t you t-taken care of me enough f-for one day?” His voice was haggard and broken, wavering over the fine line between spoken words and feral growls that burned against your skin. 

“ _Never.”_ You yanked your hips away from him, pulling him free of your sweet spot so you could drag him by his groin over to the captain's chair. Reluctantly you released him just long enough to push him into the seat, forcing him back until he was nice and reclined for you to unzip his pants and free him from the confines of the duraweave. The force of your excavating sprang the flushed member out so quickly that it bounced against his belly, leaving a glistening string of precum that made your mouth water. 

Fucking _stars_ he looked so beautiful like this, the color had come back to his blissed-out face, making his cheeks look all rosey under sex-craved eyes. You knocked his armored thighs apart with your knees to tower over him, and the _spectacle_ of those chocolate depths going wide turned your lips upwards in a devious sneer. 

“ _M-mesh’la,_ really, I s-should be t-taking care of… of _you_ ...” So _thoughtful_ of him to offer, but you were dead set on lighting his insides _ablaze_.

“Nah, you might be in the _chair_ , but _I’m_ the captain’a this ship.” You recklessly threw a leg over his thigh to straddle him with your still-clothed crotch and took a generous fistful of his shaft between your hands that nearly knocked the wind out of him. Dragging your thumb over his weeping head, you circled the blunt tip, smearing the slick down and around the length of him and making him _shiver._ When he’d been lubed to your liking, you wrapped your hands around him and languidly jerked him off just to watch him fall apart. 

The eyes that you had earned the right to see rolled and fluttered under his long lashes, squeezing shut whenever you tightened your grip as though you had a joystick in your hands and not his swollen flesh. You wondered then if you would have the same effect on his steering as you did on the Walker’s, chuckling to yourself at the thought of riding him to the ground. With his leg between yours you started gyrating against him, slotting the ridge of his legplate against where your slit pressed at the fabric of your pants; and his eyes shot open at the new sensation of you riding his thigh. 

“You know I c-can do that _for_ you, right?” He asked with a whine, nearly choking on his own tongue when you palmed at his sack.

“No touching, that’s an _order_ .” Ohohoho he didn’t like that one _bit,_ his eyebrows nearly dancing off his forehead while he tried to process the thought of not being able to touch the body of the woman he had sworn himself to. His plush lips curled up and bore his teeth at you in a rabid snarl that morphed into a villainous grin.

“Yes, _captain._ ”

You ground down on his legplate in time with your fisting, feeling your own warm slick sticking to the inside of your trousers and slipping down the insides of your thighs. Your Mandalorian rocked his hips up against your downward strokes, clawing his hands at the armrests of the iron throne you had sat him in, forbidden to grope at your rolling breasts like he so _desperately_ wanted to. The way you rolled your hips over his thigh had the gorgeous dewdrops swaying right in front of his eyes, nearly hypnotizing him with the way they moved. Just a _little_ closer and he could take the tip of one in his mouth where it belonged, where he could suckle the taste of the plum nectar off of them until just the sweet, _delectable_ taste of _you_ remained.

The hard beskar grinding against your cunt felt wonderful, but not as marvelous as you knew the feel of his living steel would be. Without releasing him from your grasp you stood up from his hot armor and pushed yourself up between his legs. “Get me out of these.”

Brown eyes twinkled at you from under sly brows. “I thought I wasn’t _allowed_ to touch you?”

“Either you take them off of me or I let go of mini mando. Your choice.” You twisted your fist around him to make your point, making him convulse in your grasp and moan right in your face. You _heard_ the sound of your pants hitting the floor before you even felt him digging at your waist, and you couldn’t help but look down at your bare legs in surprise. “Impressive, now hands _off,_ mister.” 

“ _Vixen_.”

 _“Captain.”_ Kicking your boots off you clambered up into the chair with him, setting your knees on the bulky armrests so that you hovered just out of reach of his throbbing cock. His hips jutted upwards, trying to reach wondrous warmth, but to no avail. The shit-eating-grin you flashed him made him _growl_ , he was getting so _impatient,_ but you didn’t give a single fuck. “You want this, hmm?” You ran a hand through your folds, circling your own clit for him to watch while you played with his dick. At his sides his fingers curled and uncurled into fidgety fists, simultaneously loving and _hating_ the order you had given. 

“F- fuck yes _please, cyare.”_

“Is that _begging_ I hear?” You chuckled venomously, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth. “For _shame,_ a _Mandalorian_ begging to have his cock fucked.” The muscles that usually bore the weight of beskar twitched on the sides of his neck, making the glare of the visor that usually hid him easy to imagine. “Go ahead then, _beg_ me to take you.” Another flick of your wrist had him arching his back and running his hands up through his disheveled locks until he was grabbing at the headrest for support. You were turning him into such a _mess,_ and the lids of his eyes fought to keep his gaze on where your hand was fanning and spreading your own burning need around for him to see. “Say my _name.”_

A ragged gasp of your birthname sang its way into the dark of the bridge, but the sound of it sounded so _strange_ now, as if it didn’t belong to you any more, and you tutted and shook your head. From between his raised arms he waggled brows at you, surprised that he hadn’t given you what you’d demanded. “No, not _that_ one,” you whispered, letting the heat of your breath collide with the steam of the living locomotive. 

_“C-c-c- cyare…”_ His stuttering words punctuated the rock of his hips, and he _throbbed_ hard in your palm. You swapped hands, dragging your own hot slick over his length, but only a single stroke, can’t have him coming undone _just_ yet. 

“Nope. Pick another one.”

His head rolled back against the headrest under his elbows that were now over his eyes, trying to hide himself from your vicious teasing. You knew words weren’t his strong point, but watching him writhe to meet your demands was a show worth waiting for.

“S-ss- Star-ssong?” The term of endearment hissed through his clenched teeth, _Hmm, closer_. You rewarded him with another slide of your soaked hand, swiping a thumb through the weeping slit of his swollen length. 

“Lemme hear that in _Mando’a.”_

 _“Tra’laaar-! Please Tra’laar!”_ The agonized _whine_ that he barked out practically echoed through the stately chamber, and it was _perfection._ Through one tightly-screwed eye he saw you flash a smile at him and nod, and you sped your efforts up and down his length, making him almost _cry_ at the sensation. _“Tra’laar, ner Tra’laar, gedet’ye! Gedet’ye ni linibar gar!”_ The words of his native tongue poured out of him like the river he’d nearly drowned in, and though you only knew the sound of your gifted name, the agonized prayers told you enough. 

Carefully you lifted yourself down from the armrests and into the seat, squeezing your knees in between the durasteel and the side of his hips and letting your molten core swallow him inch by delicious inch. Under you the Mandalorian rutted hard up into your heat, and you caught his hands in yours before he could grapple at your waist. “I said no _touching.”_

He fought in your grasp, nearly clawing his way to your feverish flesh, but settled for being able to finally _be_ inside of you. The muscles of his abdomen rolled his hips up into you, trying their damnedest to quench his thirst, and you tossed his arms away from you to drag your fingers through the soft treasure trail of his belly. Beneath your fingertips he twitched and heaved, caught between the need to feel you sliding over his cock and the terror of having his soft underbelly exposed. 

Sparing his vulnerable guts for now, you glided your hands up to his chest, riding him slowly and deliberately while you took your sweet time. Your eyes watched his as you rose higher up on your knees and sank back down again and again, reveling in the way his gorgeous eyes flickered every time he disappeared into you. Though he wasn’t allowed to touch you, that didn’t mean you couldn’t tease him, and you swiped your thumbs under the buds of his chest, almost getting your lights knocked out when he _balked_ at the sensation. In the corners of your eyes you could see his white-knuckled fists still clenching at the sides of the chair, and you gently pinched and rolled the sensitive little nibs between your fingers until he was shaking between your legs. 

“P-p-p _please, Tra’laar, I… c-can’t take much m-m-more…”_ You were supposed to be the minstrel of the two of you, but the way he practically _sang_ like a canary made your blood run hot and your fluttering coils seize around him. “Please, _please_ let me _touch you?”_

“Since you asked so _nicely,_ but only if you _keep begging.”_ Instantly he was on you, holding you by the indents of your neck and back and pulling you down against his chest. With you fixed in place he _catapulted_ up into you, slamming into your slick cunt with a force to be reckoned with. In your ear he spilled long strings of mando’a, though his ragged tempo broke the sweet phrases down into meaningless, lustful jargon. The hot palms on your neck and back broke loose and _slapped_ down on the swell of your ass, giving him complete control to thrust up into you with abandon. The speed and strength of the beskar bronco had you seeing stars in no time, and the shameful squelch of you coming around his length was only drowned out by his own filthy groans. 

“Such a _good girl,_ coming around my cock.” He purred in your ear, the sultry words dripping with more malice than your cunt was dripping with cum. “ _My_ _turn_.”

He threw himself forward, flipping the two of you like a slutty pancake down onto the dirty floor, carefully cradling the back of your head while he did so as not to crack your skull open from the force of impact. You weren’t given a single second to process the change of scenery before he was leaning back to set you at the perfect angle for him to chase his own release. Strong hips thrust against the backs of your thighs, sending the head of his cock bumping against the sensitive patch of nerves over and over until you were clenching around him again. He threw your legs over his shoulders and _plowed,_ giving you a front row ticket to him grinding himself to completion. 

His face was a _disaster,_ brows furrowed and lips pulled back in a snarl that only broke apart with a victorious roar while he spilled everything he had into you until it was nearly frothing out around where you were melted together. He let one of your legs sink off of his shoulder, but coiled his arms around the other, hugging the only part of you he could reach to keep himself steady. For a moment he looked so lovely, almost delicate, as if he was running his hands over a stringed instrument instead of your shaking leg. Whiskered kisses dotted along the side of your leg just moments before he was _biting_ it, **_hard_ ** _._ With a yelp you fought back in the only way you could by clamping down on his cock that was still buried deep inside, making him falter and release your captive calf. He sank over you, jackknifing you under him while he hunted for your mouth. Through the fiery kisses you could feel the sides of his fuzzy lips turning upwards until his devious grin was making it difficult to kiss him back. 

“You’re such a _jerk.”_

“You started it.” 

“I didn’t do _shit.”_ You giggled and fought against the meat of his shoulder to let your leg go, and when you had your limbs back to yourself you wrapped all of them around him, locking him to you while you both caught your breath. High above you the storm had started to wane, down to a siegeworthy drizzle from a rampant monsoon, though it was still darker than the midnight sea under the frumious cloud cover. There weren’t any stars for you to get lost in outside that sloping transparisteel, but when your lover turned his eyes to meet yours you knew you didn’t need any celestial bodies to navigate the cosmos with. 

Din kissed you again, sweet and slow in his promising way, swearing to love you without a single word. A low, warm rumble of a laugh made its way through his ribs and resonated against your chest, “You’re so beautiful like this, _riduur’ika._ I wish you could see what I see.”

“I think I can take a guess.” A stray curl had flopped over his sweatstreaked brow, and you gently brushed it back into place with tired fingers. If you looked _anything_ like he did now, blissful and sweaty and _exhausted,_ then you supposed you were probably as beautiful as he said. “Sorry to take away from the _festivities_ , but I gotta ask, where’s our foundling at?”

Your husband propped himself up on his elbows to address you better, “He’s with the Ewoks, I haven’t heard any screaming so he must be behaving, which is unlike him.”

“Ewoks?”

He cocked a brow at you, “Yes, _Ewoks_ , I think you called them ‘bear thingies?’”

Now it was your turn for crooked glances, “That’s not an _ewok,_ ewoks are some kind of animal, I’ve _had_ ewok and I can assure you it didn’t taste like _fur_.”

Din turned away from you with a horrified expression that flattened out the crinkles around his wide eyes. “I shouldn’t have said anything…”

“The fuck does that mean?!” You ignored the feeling of him slipping out from your soaked core to deal with the sudden bantha in the room. _“Din?!”_

“Those poachers we dealt with? Yeah… um. Ewoks are… a… _delicacy_ on s-some planets… ”

“Your pillow talk needs _work_ you big fucking _waffle iron!”_

Obscenities flew like bullets between the two of you, though as lecherous as you could both be, everything was said with a hefty serving of affection as you both sauntered your way off of the desecrated flight deck. You were glad to leave the pit of memories behind as you spat venom to your husband, who gladly returned fire with more playful jabs. Maybe one day you would tell him of the time you had spent on those mighty star cruisers, though you would just as much rather let bygones be bygones.

_After all, you knew how much he hated Imps..._


	9. Garden of Ishtar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific tags: SEX POLLEN + BREEDING KINK + PREGNANCY KINK with an extra kinky twist! If you know what the citrus scale its this chapter is very much at grapefruit levels of kinky. Weird shit happens in space and this is no exception so whatever good luck and may the force be with you cause you're gonna need it.

“Well, which one do you want?”

“You pick.”

“Fuck no, I picked the  _ last  _ one, you can pick the next.”

It was a bright, lovely, sunshiny day on the forest moon of Endor, the fine weather a stark contrast from how it had been when you had landed. You had opened the access ramps on the  _ Crest  _ to get some fresh air circulating while you made preparations to head towards your next target, but you had to  _ pick  _ a target first. 

On a supply crate that you had pushed into the middle of the cabin like a dining room table sat three little pucks, their bounties still as mysterious as they had been when you had wantonly pulled them off of Karga’s countertop. As far as you were concerned it was  _ Din’s  _ turn to pick, and though death was just an occupational hazard in your line of work, there had been too many brushes with the reaper during your last hunt for you to be comfortable picking again. 

Leaning against the wide open doorframe you took a deep breath of the fresh, rain-scrubbed air, letting it fill your lungs and clear your head. It was a little humid, though it might have been the nicest day you had seen in a long time. Outside on the dampish grass the foundling was chasing some kind of pretty insect, hopping about trying to catch the elusive critter. It was good for him to get a chance to stretch his legs, no matter how short they were, and you giggled at his antics when he tripped and fell. He squealed and rolled through the grass before he was bounding after another fluttering creature. Without the violent storms the mini-moon was peaceful, serene almost, and in another lifetime maybe you would have settled down here; though you couldn’t imagine being anything besides a hunter.  _ I wonder if that will ever change. _

“Really,  _ cyare,  _ you pick.” Sitting across from you, Din was cleaning the last bit of mud from his armor, the thick muck having long dried into a chunky, flaky mess. Everything but the plate he had in his hands now shimmered like spilled mercury over his chest and shoulders, catching the dappled sunbeams that filtered in through the open doors. Your argument over who got to pick the next puck had ground to a stand still, and you were getting frustrated, but not frustrated enough that you would yield. 

“It’s not  _ my _ turn _ ,  _ it’s  _ your  _ turn.” He just shook his head, diligently scrubbing the dirt from the details of the mudhorn on his pauldron without realizing the irony of his efforts. He set the cleaned metal to his shoulder, the  _ clack  _ of its fasteners echoing faintly in the open hold. The Mandalorian sat up straight, leaning his helmeted head against the hull wall and patting his knees, expectantly waiting for you to make your choice. Something about his armored appearance gave you a stupid idea, and you sauntered up to him with a cocky grin. “I’ll fight’cha for it.”

“You’ll  _ what?”  _ The black gloss of his visor tilted sharply, as though you had just grown a second head.

“Fight me! Loser has to pick the puck.” You kicked the tips of his boots and brought your fists up, playfully making soft, slow jabs towards him. He huffed, like he wasn’t used to you having bright ideas by now. 

“I’m not going to fight you,  _ cyar’ika,  _ just pick a damn puck already.”

“Them's fightin’ words.” Your knuckles went  _ pap pap pap  _ in quick succession against the hexagonal indent on his chest. “What’re’ya afraid you’re gonna lose?”

He lazily swatted at you, barely even trying to block your attack. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Ha! As if!” You whipped your head forward, sending the beskar you wore on your crown sliding down over your eyes, letting the quicksilver flash of its curved surfaces tell him you meant business. Your jabs got a little meaner, though if you hit him  _ too _ much harder his own beskar would probably break your fingers. Between his metal plates were a few soft spots, and you honed in on them with sneaky digits. Din jerked visibly when you got the one right under his chest piece, and a swift arm came up and caught your next offence. “Ohoho, so you  _ are  _ awake, I was beginning to think you had fallen asleep on me.”

“I’m not going to hit you.” His words came through his modulator like gravel, irritated that you would even  _ think  _ he would lay a hand on you. Shrugging, you knocked him right in the forehead with the heel of your palm, making his helmet clonk against the durasteel. The next jab you threw was caught and thrown back to you, him tossing your fist away. You went for him again, but when he grabbed both your fists you were pushed back with the force of him rising from his seat. He marched you backwards and shoved you away, then brought his vambraces up in a defensive block, ready for the next attack. 

You took one last glance at the foundling, who was sitting sweetly in the grassy meadow, absently trying to catch motes of pollen that were floating by, before launching into your assault. Your fists stung at him with reckless abandon, not enough to actually hurt either of you, though he probably wouldn’t have felt it anyway under his pile of armor. Mando blocked everything you hurled at him, making good on his promise not to hit you, but that was taking all the  _ fun  _ out of it. “Come on, rust bucket, stand up for yourself!” He took everything you gave, deflecting every thrown fist and slowly inching his way closer to you until you were taking steps back to open up your jabs.

“You really want me to fight you?  _ Fine. _ ” He barked, whacking your next punch away. You jumped back to dodge a rapid slew of hook shots, cackling like a lunatic that you had gotten your wish granted. 

“Yes! Come on, big boy, fight me! Let’s go! I’m gonna kick your-  _ ass!”  _ Din lunged at you, tackling you like a linebacker and throwing you against the wall. Cornered, you snapped your head forward and rang his bell, disorienting him enough that you could drop out of his grasp and dash out between his legs. He turned on you in an instant, and you made ‘come at me bro’ hands at him before he was on you again. He swiped with a left hook, chuffing you lightly on the shoulder while you socked him back; though you weren’t nearly as gentle, stinging your knuckles on his unyielding iron. 

A bandoliered boot went for your shins, and you stomped back at it, kicking sideways at the plates of his thighs. You hopped, switched legs, and spun a roundhouse straight into the side of his gut. On anyone else it would have been a crippling blow, but your Mandalorian grabbed your lifted ankle and hauled you to him, using your own weight against you to palm your sternum and flip you on your back. The wind was knocked from your lungs when you hit the floor, but not enough that you didn’t get a knee up as he tried to pin you under him, and you kicked up into his gut and flipped him over your head; the sound of his armor hitting the ground ringing loud and ugly. 

You kicked up and tossed yourself backwards in the same spring, putting you over top of his breastplate. Throwing your knees back you locked his arms under your ankles, straddling his chest so you could hold his helmet down. “That all you got?”

“You  _ wish!”  _ Din squirmed and kneed you in the ass, tossing you off of him. You rolled away and scrambled to your feet, narrowly avoiding another flying tackle. The cabin of the  _ Crest  _ wasn’t giving you much space to work with, and you hauled ass down down the ramp before he could catch you again. “Oh now you want me to  _ chase  _ you,  _ ner riduur?”  _ He hollered, swinging his arms wide in a challenging stance.

You turned and wiggled your ass at him, slapping yourself tauntingly before the sound of armored thunder had you running for cover. You ran past the foundling on the ground, braking quickly next to him to pat his head before his father was upon you, and you missed being snatched by the skin of your teeth. 

Hopping back a few paces you put up your dukes, and this time the beskar took the bait. The Mandalorian threw punches left and right, more forceful than he had started with but not enough to actually  _ hurt.  _ You took a few blows to your forearms and shoulders before lashing out with a wild throw. The sound of fists on metal echoed against the tree trunks that surrounded the sunny meadow while you took on the mighty warrior, though armor was kicking your ass for him, and you nearly dashed yourself to pieces on the plate of his chest. 

“Had enough yet?”

You roared in response and threw your whole body at him, making quick jabs at the meat of his sides where his armor was thinnest. He keeled sideways, dropped himself into a crouch, and  _ lunged,  _ tackling you to the ground.  _ Damn it! Time to fight dirty!  _ You pulled an arm free of his grasp and grabbed his cloak, throwing it over his helmet and wrapping it up tight, temporarily blinding him. He sat up to try and unravel the fabric from his face, and in that split second you grabbed the backs of his knees and  _ yanked,  _ flopping him back down onto his back. The pinner had become the pin-ee, and you squashed yourself up between his legs and thrust into his groin, making him keen in surprise. 

“You’re  _ mine,  _ bantha-butt!” Tangled in the cloak he squirmed under you until he was free of your trap, giving you a confused head tilt at your position. You hooked your arms under his knees and  _ ground  _ yourself up against his ass, making him grunt underneath you before he wrapped his legs around your middle and rolled, throwing you down onto the ground. Both of you grappled for dominance, rolling and tossing each other through the soft, dampish grass until you were on top of him again, straddling his waist. 

“That’s better.” He hummed, grabbing your wrists and pulling you down to him where he could wrap his arms around your writhing form. “You’re  _ mine _ , you little womp rat _.” _

“Nuh uh! You’re under  _ me,  _ that means  _ I  _ win, chumbucket.” You threw your weight around, trying to coax one more good roll out of the two of you, but he had you in his clutches. A dark, lecherous laugh reverberated in your ear, and you felt him rut up against your crotch to demand your complacency. Between your legs the faintest outline of his shaft slotted against you, fitting so well against the cradle of your body that it really might have been made just for you; but you grabbed his shoulders and pushed him harder into the grass. “Not in front of the foundling, you big horndog.”

“Says the one  _ riding  _ me.” A soft, leather-clad hand left your captured shoulders to slide your mask up and brush the grass from your hair, gently tucking a stray lock behind your ear; and you pressed your face into his palm as it passed back down. The rumble in his chest went right through your legs up your spine until your cheeks blushed under his thumbs. “ _ Mesh’la…” _

Something  _ twitched  _ under you, and as much as you would like to indulge him, sass came to you more naturally. “Is this why you didn’t wanna fight me?” You rolled your hips over his, giving him a tantalizing tease. “Gets you all fired up?”

His helmet rolled, trying to avoid your skull-boring gaze. “Maybe…”

“Well  _ maybe  _ when we get into hyperspace we can  _ do  _ something about that, but not until  _ that one  _ has gone to bed.”

Ahead of you the foundling was laying back in the grass, watching his adopted parents with big googly eyes. Din followed your gaze, and the two of you made stupid little waves at your child. Beans waved back and stood up, teetering over to the pair of you on his little stubby legs. You laid against the breadth of your mate’s chest and reached for the goofy green baby, who happily ran into your arms.

“Heya, Goob! What’cha up to, huh? Catchin’ bugs?” You sat up and leaned back, ignoring the heavy hands that laid on your thighs while you chatted with the foundling. The baby gibbered and told you all about his fun in the sun, but under you the slow gyration of hips was starting to get distracting. “Beans, tell your dad to stop being naughty.”

“Me?  _ You  _ started this.”

“Bah! I don’t  _ start  _ things, I only  _ finish  _ them _.”  _ Under you your beskar burdened buddy sighed and let his head fall back into the grass, shaking it back and forth at your foolishness. You hefted the foundling up in the air, making him squeal in delight, and the sweet sounds of his laughter gave you a better idea. “You know what? I bet  _ he _ would like to pick a puck!”

“Thank the fucking  _ stars _ , does that mean we can get going?”

“Yeah yeah fussbucket come on. You’re so damn  _ impatient!”  _ You made one last amorous swirl of your hips before leaping up from your man, running with the baby high above your head as you dashed circles around the ship. It was good for both of you to spend time together that wasn’t just on the trail, and you treasured the few moments of comfort you got to have as a pack between hunts. You ran a few more laps before flying up the ramp to where Mando had already beaten you there, and you plopped the baby down on the makeshift table where the pucks had miraculously survived your wrassling. “Ok buddy boy, can you pick a puckie for me?”

The baby tossed his arms in the air and squeaked like he would rather go for another round of flight simulator, but you plopped down on the ground in front of him and pointed at the pucks again. He tilted his head, making his airplane ears flop akimbo. The foundling looked down at the pucks, back up to you, and then - _ slapped-  _ the one in the middle as hard as he could. The pucks projector fired up and glowed ghostly blue in front of the child’s wondrous eyes, and he tried to grab at the  _ thing  _ showing in its center. 

The holo must be malfunctioning, maybe the baby hit it too hard, but the picture wasn’t of a _face,_ or even a person for that matter; it was something _round_ , egg shaped almost. Beside you, your Mandalorian was making the same confused head tilts that you were, and he tapped a leather finger to the puck’s button, turning it off and on again, but the same image remained. “That can’t be right, have you ever seen one like this?” 

You shook your head, puzzled by the purplish object that floated before you. Maybe it was some kind of stone or seed, or even an egg like its shape suggested. The pucknotes had a counter next to the ovoid, indicating that more credits would be rewarded for the  _ quantity  _ of items procured. Besides a description of the item and the indicator, the puck notes had one last useful tidbit of information, the last known location:

_ Hoth. _

“Wait,  _ Hoth? _ There’s nothing  _ on  _ Hoth! You sure this thing’s not fucked up?” Din shrugged, making his plates clack before he got up and started getting the ship around, closing ramps and scooting crates back into place. “Shit balls of  _ hell _ , alright! Fucking  _ Hoth  _ it is.” You’d been to Hoth maybe all of two times chasing down the stupidest, most idiotic bounties, and not once had you seen anything of value there. “Of course it has to be somewhere  _ cold,  _ we already  _ did  _ cold. One of those fucking pucks better go to a goddamn  _ beach  _ or something or I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“You sure you haven’t already? I mean,” Din stopped rearranging the furniture to swagger up to you, catching your hand in his own. “You  _ did  _ try to fight with a  _ Mandalorian.”  _

“Bah! And I’d do it again, too, you’re not  _ that  _ intimidating.” Playfully you tried to take your hand back, but he was a professional bounty hunter, and he didn’t let his captures get away so easily. Thick, leatherbound fingers laced themselves between your own, and your other arm was taken hostage and brought to his shoulder so he could rest a heavy palm on your hip unhindered. You let your hand wander up his pauldron to the edge of his helmet, sneaking a finger between the metal and the man to toy with his curls. The hand on your waist pulled you closer, and he gently pressed his helmet to your brow. 

_ “Riduur’ika,”  _ He purred, making the cool beskar rumble against your skin. “You don’t think I’m…  _ intimidating!?”  _ The arm against your waist hugged you  _ tight _ while the other twirled you around in a circle, and you made some kind of undignified  _ squeak _ as you were dipped low. Parallel to the ship's floor, you clawed at his cowl as if he would drop you, though his grip was stronger than beskar. You caught the reflection of your own wild eyes as his visor tilted to meet your gaze. “How about now?”

Safe in his arms, you snorted a laugh and stuffed your hands under his helmet to pick the latches free and toss the heavy thing off, ignoring the sound of it rolling away from you while you kissed your husband. The Mandalorian’s warm,  _ soft  _ lips against your own muffled the few stray giggles that tried to escape your mouth, tickled by not only his romance but also his mustache. Those dark chocolate eyes of his met your own, and the edges of his cheeks rolled right up into them with a dazzling smile.  _ Maker help you.  _

“ _ Din! _ Where the hell did you pick  _ that _ up from?” A warm laugh reverberated against you before he was pushing his lips to yours in another fiery kiss. 

“Saw it in a holovid once, some kind of… courtship ritual, I think. I’ve, uh, always wanted to t-try it…” His wavering baritone trailed off with a hint of embarrassment, and you couldn’t help but snicker. 

“‘Courtship ritual’, huh? Golly gee willikers, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were  _ flirting  _ with me.”

His cheeks flushed pink, “Is it working?”

“Mmm…  _ no.” _

The gorgeous smile on his scruffy face was replaced with a scowl a mile wide, but you laughed and kissed at it anyway. You heard him inhale sharply when you started to push your tongue past his lips, and he met yours with his own. Without parting, he slowly stood the pair of you back up, and you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders to pull him even closer.

Free from the muck of the forest floor that had clung to his armor, or the stygian waters of the river soaking his cloak, the familiar scent of him had returned. Rich and smokey, sweat and leather and blast plasma and the faintest remnants of the fresher soap you adored. The spice of him saturated your lungs and drenched your heart with the promise of his eternal company, giving you that delightfully warm and gooey feeling that he alone could give.

You pulled your lips from his and kissed at his cheeks and the tip of his angular nose before grabbing the sides of his head and bringing his brow back to yours. He almost fought you over it, torn between wanting his lips against your skin and the joy of you indulging in his sacred inheritance. Either way, the stubborn little  _ ‘patu’ _ that peeped up from the floor had you both pulling away to bring the foundling into your arms, you were a clan of  _ three,  _ after all.

It would take a few jumps to make it to your next destination, and if she could speak, the _Razor Crest_ would tell you how glad she was for your company as she carried you through the stars. There had been a time in the old ship’s life where she had only known silence, save for the screams of captured bounties, her hull had been nearly barren with only her captain for comfort. But then the foundling had come into her Mandalorian’s life, and the sweet sounds of a child’s laughter warmed her steel heart, amplified tenfold by the starsongs you brought with you when you had arrived as well. 

Like a serenade written to the stars themselves the three of you flowed through her ironsides, a triple-part harmony that reverberated from the top of her transparisteel dome to the depths of her cantankerous stardrive. The chimes of the navigation panel had gone unheard while the streaking stars spiralled around the old dropper, her passengers fully engrossed with each other's company. There was so much  _ laughter  _ now, between stories told and songs sang high, the starcraft’s walls nearly rang with mirth. 

The jokes you would tell, as terrible as they often were, made the  _ Crest’s  _ captain  _ smile  _ so often now; his scruffy cheeks going right up into his eyes whenever he flashed those pearly whites. He was so sweet, so gentle when the beskar was lifted from him, as if a new man was made every time the armor fell away. The oath of  _ riddurok  _ had given him such a gift, the gift of  _ touch _ , and he relished in it at every turn; pressing kisses to the faces of the two he loved most. 

And when it was time to rest, hidden away in the little sleeping alcove the three of you laid, wrapped more tightly together than any captured quarry. Below the howl of the hyperdrive engine, so faint it was almost like a secret, would come the sound of your starsongs. For your boys alone would you let yourself remember the rhymes of timelost sailors, sang low and slow to ease them to sleep. The foundling usually blacked right out on the first verses, but your unarmored husband would grapple with the pull of sleep for as long as he could, just to hear your voice. 

When you dropped out of hyperspace the uncaring iceball called Hoth dominated your view, nearly blinding you with its glaring white surface. Your captain flew the  _ Crest  _ over the snowy expanse, looking for any sign of life or even a point of interest, but the ice fields seemed to stretch on forever between snow covered steppes. You had to pull your visor down just to be able to look out the window, and you attempted to cycle its settings as if that would do you any good, but everything came back as solid colors as far as the eye could see.

“This is  _ bullshit _ , there’s nothing down there.” In your palm the bounty puck glowed faintly, making a liar out of you; but you ignored it to watch a herd of large, bipedal herbivores making their way along a mountainous ridge. The  _ Crest  _ put the animals in the rear view quicker than you would have liked, and you leaned against the transparisteel with a huff. In your lap the foundling was watching joyfully out the window, seemingly undeterred by the blinding snow. You started trying to get the baby rearranged when you saw the fob  _ flash  _ erratically before going back to lazy blinks. “Din wait! I think we passed it!”

“Passed what? I don’t see anything.” Below you the vast expanse was flat as a fresh pressed sheet, only dotted here and there with specks of icy blue.

“Circle around!” You tucked the foundling under your arm and unbuckled yourself from your seat to squish into the narrow space between Din’s armrest and the dashboard so he could see the fob for himself. He slowed the mighty metal bird down as slow as she would go and flew her in a wide circle back towards the way you’d come in.

_ Flash… flash… flash flash flASHFLAsh flash… flash… _

“You see that? There gotta be  _ something  _ down there, maybe it’s under the snow. Take us down, captain!” In the corner of your eye you caught the slightest jostle of his helmet, though it could have just as easily been the rocking of the ship that made his head move, but you knew better. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,  _ captain.”  _ The poorly veiled cheekiness in his voice was met with a loving suckerpunch against the side of his pauldron. You’d completely failed to learn your lesson about the bite of beskar, and you hissed at the iron’s sting on your knuckles. The  _ Crest  _ floated down gently, her engines kicking up flurries of crisp white snow over the broad expanse. The moment the landing struts had locked into place your armored companion was grabbing for your wrist. “That’s why you shouldn’t try to fight me,  _ mesh’la.” _

_ “Bite me.” _

A soft thumbpad brushed gently against your reddening knuckles, making you wince just slightly. The black gloss of his single eye slowly coasted up to meet your own, then cocked sideways. “Looks like I already did.” With his other hand he lifted the edge of his helmet just enough to press the softest kiss to the back of your hand, and though his sweetness made your heart thunder against its cage, the wry upturn of his lips almost made you want to punch him again. 

Under your arm the foundling squirmed and cooed, and you brushed your captured hand along the edge of your husband’s bristly jaw before pulling the child around to your chest so you could both look out the window. The alabaster plains stretched out in all directions like the Dune Sea of Tatooine, nothing for miles. 

“Din I think this fob is busted, and probably the puck too, there’s  _ fuckall  _ out-”

*- _ crik- c-c-crrrack  _ **_craack_ ** _!-* _

Something snap-crackle- _ popped _ outside the ship, like the sound of suspension cables breaking. High pitched creaks between deep, almost gutterel booms.  _ Ice. _

“ _ Cyare… don’t… move.”  _ The armored monolith was frozen solid, more frozen than the ice underneath you apparently. Not even the sound of his modulated breathing could be heard in the stillness of the flightdeck. 

_ *...cricckckcick..creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeak……cruU _ **_NCH!-*_ **

The ship  _ lurched,  _ a vicious gash splitting the ice below you. You lurched with it, your heart leaping to your throat as your arms squished the baby tight. A gloved hand shot from the steering controls to steady you.

*-k-k-reaa _aak_ _thuddduddudud… crRON_ ** _CH!-*_**

_ “Oh fuck.” _

*…. **_CrAcK_ ** _ -!* _

The  _ Crest  _ tilted nose-first into the growing abyss, and your oathsworn had only a split second to haul you and the foundling into his seat before the old girl was hurtling through the breach. 

For a moment you were in free fall, a canyon of aquamarine flying past the window, darkening with every passing second. It felt like slow motion, your legs becoming weightless while the rest of you was anchored to the pilots seat. 

*-ka- _ R _ **_uNcH!-*_ **

Rigid muscle and beskar enveloped you as the  _ Razor  _ hit the ground, metal crunching and screeching with the impact. Your deathgrip on the foundling was only matched by the armored grasp around you, keeping the two of you locked safely to Din’s chest. Bulbs flickered and wires sparked in the waning light of the flight deck, though your eyes were so tightly screwed shut you didn’t notice. You took a cautious breath, only now aware that you had been holding it before wrenching an eye open. Beskar dominated your view, the heavy helmet of your husband pressed tightly to your face. 

“Are you ok?” came a modulated whisper. 

“Yeah, are you?” He nodded against you, and you peeled yourselves apart to inspect the foundling that was encased between your chests. Baby Beans chirruped and ogled at his fussing  _ buir,  _ the two of you knocking into each other while you both checked him for damage. When he’d passed both your inspections you glanced around the cockpit, though you guessed from the sound of the impact most of the damage would be down below. 

You practically needed a crowbar to get Din’s arms off of you, his protector’s instinct running at full bore to guard his clan, but you managed to weasel out of his iron grasp. Frigid air gusted up through the ladder hole before you’d even crossed the short distance to the drophatch, making you shudder. Below, the force of the impact had torn the  _ Razor’s  _ walls asunder, breaking apart her riveted seams. Icy wind blew in through the gashes, freezing the mist that sprang from your eyes.

“Oh, my poor Lady…” You whispered, your heart aching from seeing your ship so wounded. Heavy boots made their way down the ladder behind you, and you turned to your oathsworn, “Can… can we fix this?”

“We can try, but you need something warmer.” Stoic as the day you met, Mando strode to the bent lockers and forced his way in, pulling out a heavy parka and draping it around your shoulders. The cold weather garb was entirely too big for you, but it snuggled around you like a warm hug, blocking out the frigid breeze. In your arms the foundling peeped out from the collar, just enough to watch his papa without getting too chilly.

Din was elbow deep in another wrecked cabinet, scrounging up whatever tools he could find to repair the damage. You joined him at the growing pile, holding onto the child with one arm and trying to pick a portable welder up with the other. Hands too full, you ducked into the oversized parka and worked to stuff the baby up under your shirt, cinching your belt under his butt so he wouldn’t fall out.  _ There, stay warm you little fart.  _

It took a while for the two of you to make enough progress on the broken bird to get her closed up again, but many hands make the work lighter. Ship repair had been your very first duty when you went starborne, and your hands remembered how to bend durasteel to your will, though you would probably need to get to an actual  _ mechanic  _ if you were going to be star-worthy again.

Occasionally you caught the tilt of your Mandalorian’s visor when you fired up the welder or cranked a ratchet against a stubborn bolt, snapping away from you when you’d shoot him a sly wink. Once the cabin was passable, it was time to work on the exterior, but you swatted at Din’s occupied mitts, demanding that the two of you take a rest beforehand. His back cracked when he stood up straight, and though he wouldn’t admit it, a break was a good idea. 

“Do you have a kettle or something I can make hot water in? I think I saw a canister of broth we can heat up.” Your repair work on the hull must have been pretty damn efficient, because the parka was beginning to get warm, and you started to shrug it off when you heard the rackety sound of something clattering to the floor.

“ _ B-buir’ika?”  _ Behind you, Din had dropped a heavy tool and was staring at you with that black hole gaze of his. 

“Boo-ear-eeka? What does-  _ oh!”  _ You glanced down at yourself and laughed, your tunic protruding with a large, rounded tummy. “Chilly beans!” Bending forward, you pulled your collar down so your oathsworn could see the half-lidded eyes of the cozy foundling hidden below the swell of your breasts. “I didn’t want him to get cold.”

When you looked up from the babe’s sweet face, your armored husband had silently crossed the length of the hold and was nervously reaching towards you, his hands hovering over the lumpy shape in your middle. Gently he set his palms to where the child was bundled, slowly gliding over the taut fabric and making you flush crimson. Din did a double take on your cherry-red face and pulled away, muttering an apology and hastily returning to his duty as kettle-fetcher.

When you’d gotten the foundling out of your shirt and the thin soup heated, you sat down on your regular eating crate with your crew. The three of you took your break quietly since eating or drinking in your presence still made Din a little embarrassed, but between his timidness and the awkward term of endearment the tension in the cabin was so thick you could cut it with a vibro. He usually pressed his back to yours, but now he was hunched over his bowl of broth, sipping silently. 

When your cup was empty you got up from your seat, pressed a kiss to each of your boy’s heads, and got your tools around to work on the outside of the  _ Crest.  _ You were garbed and out the exit before Din could protest, though you wouldn’t have listened anyway if he did. Once the ramp closed behind you, you took a deep breath of the glacial air, letting it clear your head. Shore leave was a luxury you rarely got to indulge in during your early years, and your love of having your boots on the ground only got stronger as the years went by.

The basin you had crashed into sprawled beneath the ice sheet high above your head, supported by enormous pillars of frozen water. This had probably been a lake once, or even a small sea, but when the water drained it left behind the frozen aquifer you now found yourself stuck in. High above you the light from where you had fallen through the ice cast frosty sunbeams through the falling snow, faintly illuminating the mythical columns in cobalt and turquoise hues.

Your boots crunched through the ancient permafrost as you made your rounds, taking a mental checklist of the  _ Razor’s  _ damage. Her keel had taken the brunt of the impact, but one of her wingtips was pretty busted up, a twisted panel sending sparks into the cerulean cathedral that would probably take two people to fix.

Out of curiosity you pulled the blinker from somewhere in your parka, relieved to see that it was indeed flashing. If you had thrown your crew to the depths of Niflheim on a busted fob you might never forgive yourself. You wondered what the acoustics would be like in the icy cavern, but the threat of bringing the fragile ice sheet down around your ears kept you quiet. Holding the fob up, you made a wide circle around the ship, trying to pinpoint which way the blinks were fastest.  _ This way…  _ You cast a quick glance over your shoulder at the  _ Crest  _ with her ramps still closed, and started towards your quarry. 

* * *

In the ship's durasteel depths, Din sighed and groaned, unsure how to feel. He hated not being next to you, but he respected you enough to know you might need some space after…  _ that.  _ He tried to distract himself by wiping off the foundling’s mush-mouth with the edge of his cloak, but that almost made things worse.  _ Our foundling. _

Everything about _The Way_ encouraged the safety and procreation of younglings, and not only as a _riduur_ but also an _Alor_ he should be fathering _many_ children with you to recover Mandalore’s losses. But you had said you weren’t ready, and he honored your wishes, but even so, his heart _ached_ with the desire to see you filled with his warriors.

He knew he shouldn’t, but that was suddenly all he could imagine, you round and glowing and  _ full…  _

“ _Damn_ _it_.” He could feel his face flush red, and the honeyglow seeped through his bones all the way down to his guts, forcing him to pull his helmet back on just to regain his composure. When the visor was back over his eyes, he glanced down at the foundling, who was making some kind of _face_ up at him. “This is _your_ fault.”

“ _ Patu! _ ”

* * *

The  _ Crest  _ was a good distance behind you now, the edges of her wings partially obscured by the ice, but not quite out of eyeshot. The air was stagnant so far below the surface, the cold of it sitting heavy in your lungs and freezing inside your nose. Aside from the towers of frost and fallen snow, the cavern was empty. Enormous, but  _ empty. This fucking fob, there’s nothing here.  _ You were half tempted to chuck the hunk of garbage away or stomp it out, take the loss just to get the  _ fuck  _ out of here, when you felt a subtle  _ breeze  _ waft over you. 

You were too far from the breach for it to be coming from above you, and you held perfectly still, trying to determine its source. Too faint, you bent down and scooped up a handful of snow, chucking it high above you and watching the way it fell.  _ That way!  _ Suddenly excited to play Arctic Explorer, you hustled to find the source of the breeze.

Twice more you used the snow as a compass until you were at a colossal glacier, the size of it easily big enough to swallow a large starship. A splotch of dark blue stood out against the ivory, and as you got closer you saw it was a fissure in the ice, a tunnel of some kind.  _ Maybe this is where the water went.  _ The air coming out of it was making your parka flap around you while you held up the fob:  _ flashflashflash.  _ Whatever it is you were tracking had to be down there, and you brushed ice crystals off of your faceplate to flip through your extrasensory settings until thermal flickered to life.

_ Warm.  _ The air coming out of the tunnel was  _ warm,  _ though only by a few degrees more; not enough to thaw your bones, but enough to register on your visor. You stepped forward, tucking your head into the tunnel. Dark as the depths of an ocean and just as blue, the frozen tube stretched away, darker and darker until it turned to void. Stepping just inside the entrance, you flailed when your boots nearly lost traction.

_ This is dangerous, I don’t know what’s in there.  _ A gust of air blasted around you as if to warn you away.  _ Could be anything, maybe I should wait for- Ah  _ **_FUCK!_ **

The thought was knocked from your skull when your boots slipped out from under you and you slid ass over teakettle down the icy channel, vanishing into the dark.

* * *

The inside of the  _ Crest  _ was  _ immaculate,  _ more ship-shape that she had been in a long time. Din had to keep busy, after the repairs were given another once-over and you  _ still  _ hadn’t returned he had started reshelving all the tools and cookware, and only when the last thing left to do was  _ mop  _ did he give up his endeavors.  _ Where the hell is she?  _ He was getting anxious, more so than he usually was. His hands fidgeted with the strap that crossed his chest, thumbing at each of the slugs in line.  _ She should be back by now. _

_ What if she’s hurt?  _ His hands froze on the leather, his breath catching in his chest. He knew you were  _ capable,  _ but what if something got you, or you fell or… or… 

“Kid, let’s go.” The ‘what ifs’ that drained out of his thoughts and down his throat turned to bile in the pit of his stomach, and he had to  _ do _ something about it.  _ She can be as mad at me as she wants, I don’t care, I just need to know she’s safe.  _ Quickly he grabbed a few supplies, loading up his rucksack with rehearsed precision:  _ bacta, shovel, thermos, jet pack, munitions, rations _ . The foundling gibbered while his papa wrapped him up in a heavy blanket before setting him in his pram.  _ I’m coming, cyare! _

* * *

The slip-and-slide you had gotten yourself into  _ wooshed  _ past your ears, and you could only curl in a ball to protect yourself as you hurtled through the chasm of ice. The violet hue coming through your visor slowly turned to warmer tones as the temperature steadily increased. You struggled to grab a vibro off of your belt as you spun through the dark, but the singing dagger only scraped against the solid ice, the permafrost so old and strong that not even  _ steel  _ could cut it.

Under you the angle changed sharply, tossing you on your ass over another slope before you were  _ falling  _ through the air. You tucked and rolled when you hit the ground, desperately trying not to get your neck broken. Skittering to a halt, you cautiously let yourself uncurl, but what your eyes saw made you think you had landed on your head.

_ “Woah.” _

* * *

The top of the  _ Crest  _ was still damaged, though Mando knew you had left with the intent to do repairs.  _ Not up there.  _ Your footprints circled around the old ship in a few loops before heading off into the cavern.  _ Fuck, where did she go?  _ The prints from your shoes still glowed faintly with residual heat on his visor, and he checked on the foundling’s comfort one more time before following your trail. 

* * *

The Universe has a strange way of granting wishes. 

Crystalline gravel crunched underfoot as you approached the  _ beach  _ you had landed in front of. Mineral-rich water bubbled and boiled in front of you with volcanic heat, steaming up the chamber you now found yourself in. The thick, viscous  _ ooze  _ was so leden with salts that its edges were caked with jagged deposits that lapped against the sides of tall, crested structures that almost resembled  _ a reef _ . The subterranean coral ranged in size and height from just below your knees to easily three times your height, almost brushing the stalactites that hung from the vaulted ceiling.

You wished you had a holo-corder or data cube handy, because there was  _ no way  _ anybody had been here before, though maybe for good reason. The colors on your visor ranged from bright yellow to teal to hot motherfuckin’  _ pink,  _ and you lifted your faceplate up to wipe at the sweat that was beading on your brow. The vibrancy of the reef  _ without  _ your sensors was even more garish in person, caught in the radiant light that seemed to drip from the ceiling on the tails of glow worms. 

The ground under your boots sounded like glass breaking as you wandered through the cavern, spellbound by the sprawling grove. It took a herculean effort to bring your gaze down to the fob in your hand:  _ FLASHFLASHFLASH!  _ You held the tracker high, doing a little spin to try and locate the target, letting your feet walk on their own.  _ Maybe the coral is the target?  _ Stopping at a particular orange staghorn, you held the fob to its spongy flesh,  _ nope, not this one…  _

From fan to tube to spiraling tower you walked, holding the fob up to each one in turn, waiting for a solid link. The reef thickened as you moved away from the lagoon, growing in taller and thicker clusters until you had to scrape your way between them to continue. Under your parka you were sweating like a quacta, but the spiny polyps on some of the branches could easily scratch you without it as you wormed your way between them. The crystalline gravel under you started to make a different noise, from a  _ crunchacrunch  _ to a  _ squishasquash _ . Beneath your boots, long, dark purple roots were growing, pulsating with the fluid that flowed through their veins.  _ Eww… _

* * *

The silence of the cerulean cathedral weighed heavy on Mando's audio processors, more so than the stillness of the air. He was in full hunter mode, following your tracks to where you were hopefully safe and sound, though if he let himself think anything else he worried he might have a full blown panic attack.  _ No, can’t think about that. Find the quarry, find your wife. Don’t think about her being hurt, or lost or scared or…  _

From the open pram a chirruping coo echoed softly between the towering pillars of ice, bringing Din’s attention to his son. Though the foundling looked alright, the tips of his ears were turning the faintest shade of blue. Din pulled his cloak off, though he needed it just as much in the sub-zero space, his foundling always came first. The fabric heaped out of the pram, almost covering the child completely.  _ If she were here, would she put the baby in her shirt again to keep him warm?  _

Suddenly he didn’t  _ need  _ his cloak, the fire in his chest surging out to burn at his ribs and scald his cheeks. He stopped, shaking his head at the  _ embarrassment  _ that sprouted from his scorched insides.  _ You’ve got it  _ bad _ , Djarin. _ Your tracks had lost their heat, but he could still clearly see your footprints in the snow, and a flood of determination spurred him on.  _ Find the quarry. _

* * *

The dark purple roots lead you to a grove of anemone shaped corals, their thick tentacles reaching for the jagged sky. At the center of their radials sat a fat, lumpy bulb, protected by fleshy limbs. Draped between the spires, more of the icky veins hung like vines, throbbing and pulsing with whatever goo they were filled with. 

Touching the blinker to the closest arm, the flashing red light went solid,  _ bingo!  _ “This is it!” Your excited voice would have echoed in the chamber that you had fallen from, but the sponges soaked up your words. You’d left the puck back on the  _ Crest,  _ but you remember you were here for some kind of  _ shape,  _ eggish or stone like, but the waving arms arched upwards into bare, knobbly tips.  _ Fruitless _ . 

That left the pod in the center, probably some kind of seed in the bottom of its pistil.  _ Gonna have to cut my way though.  _ You turned your attention to the viney spires that blocked your path to the center and pulled a vibro from your now sweat-soaked parka. Cautiously, and without turning on the thrummer, you touched the blade to the creeping flesh. 

Your knife sank easily, and the fluid that filled the tentacles oozed readily out over the steel.  _ Oooooh, pretty!  _ Though it was mostly clear, the syrup gleamed with a holographic, oily shine, looking like a melted rainbow as it seeped through the wound. The open gash quickly grew new vines that slimed their way around their host trunk, pulsating with goop.  _ Weird. _

What hit you next was the  _ smell,  _ an intoxicating sweetness like honey on fruit sitting out on a hot summer day. If the anemone  _ was  _ poisonous, it had a devilish way of attracting its prey, whatever that might be, because the temptation to  _ lick  _ your knife clean became almost overwhelming.  _ That is the stupidest goddamn idea you’ve ever had, get cuttin’, damn it!  _ You hacked and slashed your way to the center, trying to out-cut the regrowth; but the scent quickly made you feel hazy. You reached out to grab one of the arms for support, your cloudy head threatening to toss you on your ass, and the serpentine buds tried to coil around your wrists.  _ Sonofabitch! Fuck off ya big vegetable. Just… just a little further.  _

* * *

“Of  _ course  _ this is where she went.” Standing at the crack in the ice, Mando was pacing back and forth with his hands stabbed to his hips. Your tracks ended  _ abruptly  _ at the fissure, and the slick surface told him you had probably slipped and fell into the dark, and he was going to have to jump down after you. The hole stretched far away through the ice, so far that not even his full helmet’s array of sensors could detect the bottom. He rested a boot on the icy surface, giving it an experimental slip. If he fell down the hole as well, he would be no good to either of you. 

Every protective instinct told him to  _ jump,  _ go in after you, get you to safety, but his hunter instincts knew better. Fishing the trencher from his bag, he sat down at the entrance and tucked the shovel under his knees, pointy side out. He pulled the foundling’s crib into his lap and carefully started the slide. The shovel blade  _ screeched  _ against the tunnel, and though it couldn’t break the ice it would at least slow him down as he scraped his way through the dark.

* * *

You were  _ dizzy,  _ the coral’s perfume making you falter. Your goal was  _ so close,  _ but in your haze you were starting to get tangled in the vines that laced through the anemone's arms, and it wasn’t long before they were tangled around your own outstretched limbs.  _ Stupid fern, ger’off me!  _ Yanking against the tendrils only seemed to make things worse, and soon your legs were being caught up as well.  _ Fuckin’shit’it’all.  _ Progress to the core stopped completely, and you stood a moment to catch your breath.  _ Fucksake, this shit is strong!  _ You knew  _ you  _ weren’t moving, but even dazed you could feel something snaking around your boots, and you kicked at the movement, horrified to find that you couldn’t.  _ Shit balls of fucking hell!  _

The slimy vines coiled around your legs, and you fought valiantly to cut them away, but the more you cut the more seemed to grow like hydras from the anemone's wounds. They were up to your knees, then your waist, and the weight of them started to pull on you until you were dragged to the ground. Struggling in their grasp, they tightened on your arms until you could only writhe like an insect caught in a spiders web. You started to scream, but the creeping thing stuffed itself up under your faceplate and plunged into your mouth. 

Something _warm_ and _wet_ oozed between your teeth, and you bit down on the assaulting tendril, only to flood your mouth with more of the sweet syrup. Even in your panic you were taken aback by the _taste_ of it, sweet and rich, almost ambrosial, and a wildly primal instinct told you that you wanted _more._ Around your limbs the vines were not _constricting,_ merely holding you down, and you took another cautious gulp of the nectar. Your fear began to subside, though in the back of your mind you knew it shouldn’t; you were in a subterranean hellscape, far away from your partner, with some bullshit _plant_ keeping you hostage, but maybe one more taste wouldn’t hurt...

You sucked at the intruder, delighted to find it give you more of the tasty substance, the flavor of it settling warm and snuggly in your belly. Closing your eyes you lapped away, enjoying the hazy, almost drunken feeling that was washing over you. It was blissful and comforting, even wrapped up in the living spires you couldn’t be bothered to care as long as you got to have  _ more.  _

Something slithered up around your legs and waist, but caught up in the ambrosia you paid it no mind until it was worming its way into the waistband of your pants. Your trousers were pulled down around the tops of your boots, and though the sweltering volcanic atmosphere was making you sweat, the heat burning between your legs almost made the air feel  _ cold.  _ The sudden change in temperature reeled you back to reality, and you tried to spit the vine out while you squirmed in the hydra’s grasp. Another gush of nectar leaked over your tongue, and you greedily sucked it down, feeling another wave of cozy fogginess settle in your head.

Not even the sweetness on your lips could distract you from the feeling of something slimeing its way between your legs, leaving a trail of slick around your entrance. The goop  _ tingled,  _ leaving the same warm and wet feeling behind that it was leaving in your throat. Maker  _ help _ you it felt  _ good,  _ though some distant instinct screamed to you that it shouldn’t, but you couldn’t hear it if you wanted to. Your back arched, driving your hips against the coils between your thighs, chasing the sensation. 

The hydra’s arms pushed their way inside you, many thin strands that sqirmed and writhed, working to stretch you wider. Their efforts slicked past your clit, rubbing the tantalizing ooze around the sensitive little nub while they opened you up. Your hips rocked on their own, though in your captured state you were nearly helpless to chase your own high, but the coral’s limbs worked you up  _ for  _ you. Inside you could feel them, sliding past each other in the warm slick in tandem with the rubbing on your aching clit making you obscenely wetter. 

You cried out around the knob still in your mouth as a thicker arm started to push up into you, gliding through the slick nectar. The smaller vines coiled around the newcomer, spiraling up its length as it started to pump in and out of your dripping cunt, adding ridges to the smooth length.  _ Fuck it’s thick!  _ The ties on your legs held you in place as the tendril fucked itself into you, twisting and slimeing around your insides. Hot streams of juice, both yours and the hydra’s, coursed down your thighs almost embarrassingly fast, and you choked and gasped around the spigot while you came.

As if it was emboldened by your orgasm the tentacle  _ surged  _ up into you, leaking what felt like  _ gallons  _ of the wonderful, mind numbing nectar into your fluttering cunt until it was pouring out of you. It thrust against your cervix, dragging the smaller tips around the sensitive muscle. More of the threadlike tendrils tried to push in with the larger one, plucking at your clit and folds and playing you like a sinful harp. 

The  _ sensation  _ of it all stoked fire in your core until it was nearly burning you alive, and you gladly let the blaze consume you as the devious creature fucked you stupid. Warm juice practically gushed out of you when you came again, squirting all over the arms that held you captive. Your legs were pulled further apart, anything to open you up to fit more of the sneaky devils in you until you were stretched as wide as you would go, the girth of the serpentis shaft pushing against the bones of your hips from the  _ inside.  _

Slicked thoroughly, the widest arm rolled against the muscle that protected your womb, and even in your lust-drunk state you could  _ feel  _ it pouring its juices into you. The smaller tendrils followed the nectar up into you where no cock could ever reach, teasing at the rim of the protective coil until it started to relax. More pushed past the ring of muscle until you could feel it  _ gaping,  _ holding you open against the large, blunt tip.

The thrusting stopped, and you mewled sinfully around the vine between your teeth, begging it not to, _oh fuck please don’t stop!_ Whatever aphrodisiac you had been pumped full of was screaming for _more more_ ** _more!_** Your body hungered for more release, as if you hadn’t drenched the surrounding reef underneath you. You flickered an eye open, but the way your back was curved gave you no vantage of the scene below your waist, but you could see the central pod you had so valiantly tried, and failed, to reach. 

From a hole in its top grew the amorphophallus that was filling you so deliciously, and you watched in horror as it  _ pulsed  _ something bulbous up its length. The bulge got closer until it disappeared from your line of view, but it wasn’t long before you  _ felt  _ it, something  _ big  _ pushing against your entrance. You cried out against the gag, but you were held steadfast as the rounded thing forced its way inside you.

The width of it knocked against your hip bones until it was past their crest, and you clenched as best you could around the delicious stretch until you felt something you’ve never felt before. You’ve  _ been  _ fingered, you’ve been fucked and loved and filled to capacity, but the  _ weight  _ of something being  _ deposited  _ in your belly was something wonderfully  _ new _ . The heft of it felt  _ good,  _ filling and wholesome, though the feeling of terror was still trying to permeate your hazy mind, telling you to  _ run,  _ as if you could. Your hands were bound to your sides, but you wanted to rub at your belly and feel what had been put there. The press of another orb teased at your entrance, and you bucked your hips at it, encouraging another fill.

_ So good!  _ The unknown object settled in your womb next to the first, the size of them pressing against the back of your abdominal wall, any more and you would be  _ showing.  _ A third bulge made itself known, and you seized your coils around it, letting it bring you to release with its stretch. You came around the vines, and the hydra wormed another pod past your cervix, riding with you through your high. A fourth, a  _ fifth, sixth!  _ You forced an eye open, and the  _ swell  _ of your stomach was visible over the curves of your breasts.  _ Fuuuuck,  _ any more and you really might be fit to burst. 

Three more times you were gloriously stretched and drained, the exertion of so many orgasms nearly causing you to faint, but you would do so gladly in your heightened state. One more for good measure pulsed into your swollen belly before the vines receded, and the bindings on your arms and legs withered and died. Gloriously spent, you laid on the ground in a pool of nectar and juices, weakly tugging the vine from your mouth so you could gasp for air. With shaking arms you tried to pry yourself free of the dried tendrils, but the nectar that still filled you felt so  _ good  _ that you almost didn’t want to move, lest it drain out.

The first thing you noticed when the effects began to fade was how much the skin on your abdomen hurt, it felt  _ tight,  _ and you weakly brought a hand up to feel it.  _ Maker above!  _ Your belly was  _ full,  _ and you poked at your protruding middle, feeling the pods inside you slosh around in the devious nectar. Warm goo poured out between your legs, making your eyes roll back from the heat. Through your cloudy mind you thought you heard something, something far away that sounded like shouting. The shouts got closer, and you could almost swear it sounded like your name. Maybe it was.

“ _ Tra’laar!”  _ That was  _ definitely  _ your name, though it sounded distant and fuzzy. You tried to call out to the voice, only to cough up more of the sweet syrup that lined your throat. The taste of it was still as delicious as it had been from the beginning, and another blaze of heat coasted down your spine and made your guts clench and your belly jiggle. Licking your lips you called again, this time with enough force to actually  _ make  _ noise, and the sound of corals being torn apart as something barreled through the reef towards you made itself known. 

“ _ Tra-”  _ Mando skittered to a halt somewhere beside you, the sound of your gifted name snagging in his mouth. There you were on the cavern floor, covered in dead vines and some kind of  _ goo,  _ but the most distressing sight of all was your sudden  _ pregnancy _ . Cautiously he approached you and started untangling your arms and legs, trying to clear the offending tentacles away. He kneeled beside you, his armored hands hovering over your rounded shape. “ _ Riduur’ika?  _ Wh- what  _ happened to you?!”  _ His voice was shaking, barely a whisper coming through his modulator. 

“Heeeyyy~” You purred, still buzzed on the herbal wine that had soaked every nerve in your body. “Babe… I think… um. I think there’s something… i-inside… me?”

“ _ Well I can see  _ **_that!_ ** **”** There was some kind of  _ tone  _ to his voice, wedged somewhere between anger and fear and maybe just a  _ sprinkle  _ of desire. “What  _ did this  _ to you?!”

“I dunno... that wiggly thingie got all up in my bisnatch.” You rubbed at your eyes, trying to get some clarity while your armored companion stressed himself to a frenzy. Mama-hen Mando’s fretting started to make you  _ giggle,  _ and the jostling of your laughs had your tummy jiggling with its fullness. Above you your oathsworn was  _ horrified,  _ but all you could see was his silly visor and his twitchy hands. “Prob’bly need to do something about it, don’t we?”

“Fucking  _ hell, cyare!  _ Yes we need to get whatever  _ that  _ is out of you!” He sounded really upset now, panicked even, and you shook your head trying to shake the daze. You started to sit up, but the weight of your womb made it a struggle. “Hey take it easy! Here, let me help you.” His protector instincts kicked in, and he was wrapping himself up around you to raise you to a seated position. You couldn’t help the way you rubbed at your tummy, still riding the high of the juice that coated your cunt and thighs and stuck to the back of your throat.  _ I wonder if I can bottle this up and sell it. _

A soft leather hand placed itself on your swell, moving over your taut skin with a featherlight touch. “This isn’t  _ right,”  _ you heard him say, “I should be the one filling your belly, not some fucking  _ vegetable!” _

Stupid chuckles burst out your mouth and made you snort, “Pfft… babe are you jealous some fruit by the foot knocked your girl up?”

“Damn it all  _ yes I’m jealous! _ Of course I am, I'm your  _ husband!  _ And why aren’t  _ you  _ more upset? You almost look like you’re  _ enjoying  _ this! _ ”  _ You ignored him to swipe a finger through the goop on your leg and bring it up to your lips, slurping noisily at the colorful syrup. 

“It’s this stuff, it’s tasty! You should try it!” The snap of his visor told you he wasn’t going to indulge you, but his gentle touch was pressing carefully under the drop of your belly, and you could see him watching the way it wiggled. “Bah, you like this don’t you? Don’t lie to me, bucketboy.”

“ _ No!...  _ Well… maybe a  _ little.” _ He shook his head, trying not to be disoriented by the same daze you were. “We’re getting this out of you  _ right now!  _ Can you sit up? Get on your knees?” He guided you up off your butt and onto your haunches, the weight of your middle  _ lurching  _ forward from the motion, swaying under you. “Stars above,  _ mesh’la,  _ I-I don’t know how to f-feel about this…” He trailed off, torn between seeing you swollen full and knowing damn well whatever it was could probably kill you. “You’re  _ beautiful…” _

“Ha, I knew you liked this, now c’mon and get this fucker out of me, yeah?”  _ How the actual fuck were you supposed to do that?  _ Your partner pulled his gloves off and went for the obvious route, sliding his long, calloused fingers up inside your sopping cunt with a curse. Three of his devious digits went up without a hitch in your overstretched state, teasing around to get a feel of you. 

“I didn’t know you  _ stretched  _ this wide,  _ cyare,  _ does… does this feel  _ good?” _

You shot him a sideways glare, letting your lips turn up in a mischievous sneer. “Ye-yeah, feels  _ amazing.”  _ the ambrosia was still making you sex crazed, and even with your legs covered in your own arousal you could tell there was still more to give. “Din..?”

“I’m right here, _buir’ika,_ I’ve got you.” He scootched back behind you, wrapping one arm in between your breasts and your belly to hold you in place while he hunted through your slick folds. Din had become an _expert_ at finding that naughty patch of nerves behind your clit that had your muscles tightening around his strong hands in seconds, and you let him work your ecstasy right back up. “That’s it, _mesh’la,_ fucking _stars_ I can _feel_ you, you’re _close!_ Come for me, that’s it, that’s a _good girl.”_

He pressed his helmeted head against your own, burying the sharp edge of the beskar in the meat of your shoulder while you tightened around him. His other arm pressed down on your swell, and the force of your orgasm  _ squeezed  _ something out of your belly and through your channel, rubbing deliciously against your walls as it passed into his waiting hand.

The seed pod that practically popped out of you was a dark purple egg-shaped thing with swirls of green and blue, matching the description of the bounty puck to a tee. Mando brought the thing around for you to see, rubbing at your side encouragingly. It shimmered in the eerie light of the cavern only briefly before it withered in his hand and flaked away on the volcanic breeze. _Gone._

“Um, Mando…” You whispered, feeling a weird mix of arousal and fear ooze down your thoat with the unicorn slime, “I think if we’re gonna get them back to the ship, I think they have to, um,  _ fuck _ ...  _ stay… _

“Absolutely  _ not! _ What if they poison you? What if they break open or s-something and  _ kill  _ you?”

“But the bounty-”

“Fuck the bounty!” He roared, “Fuck  _ everything!  _ I can’t  _ lose  _ you,  _ cyare!  _ I… I  _ won’t,  _ especially for a handful of  _ credits.”  _ The desperation that clawed at his voice stung your heart, but you were determined not to fail in your mission, no matter how creepy it was.

“Din,” you hummed, trying to calm him down, “I’m ok, really! Maybe a little  _ mess- Oh~!”  _ The Mandalorian’s fingers slid right back up your weeping cunt, fucking into you mercilously. His rough fingers slid easily through the slick, and he made up for the lack of friction with sheer  _ determination.  _ “ _ Ah! Ah Din! Din yes! Oh yes!!!”  _ High as a kite you went, coming all over his persistent thrusts. His grip tightened on your middle, and another pod escaped your womb. 

“I  _ told  _ you to stop trying to  **_fight me_ ** _.”  _ Oh  _ fuck  _ he’s using  _ that voice!  _ Dark and husky right in your ear, searing electricity over your flesh and blowing up your ovaries. The voice of a  _ hunter,  _ the voice of an  _ alpha,  _ whether he knew it or not. The timbre of it vibrated so low and strong you couldn’t help but whine against the beskar pressed to your face. “You’re going to  _ stop arguing  _ and you’re going to be a  _ good girl  _ and let me fuck you empty so I can  _ fill you  _ right back up. You’re  **_mine,_ ** **MY** _ riduur,  _ and  _ the only thing that should be  _ **_inside_ ** _ you is  _ **_me!_ ** _ ”  _ His command flooded with raw power, and you blasted out another pod or two at his words alone.

You were  _ gone _ , soaked to the core with desire until all you could do was  _ moan  _ into the armor that held you steady. Bonelessly you gave him everything you had, drenching his arms and knees with your holographic slick. Determined as ever, your armored protector pumped into you, cupping your whole pussy in his palm while he stuffed you with his fingers. When you’d rocketed the fifth seed out, you nearly fainted in his arms, drained of all your energy. Your mind was fuzzy, but you could almost pick up the sound of a question making its way over the roaring blood in your ears. “Huh?”

“How many more?” You shook your head, and a furious growl reverberated against your skull. His soaked hand slid out of you and shook itself somewhere nearby, sending melted rainbow goo flying. When the arm coiled around your belly left you, you nearly toppled, but he caught you swiftly. “Drink.” Metal was pressed to your lips, and the broth you had abandoned earlier graced your syrup-coated throat. You’d never been so  _ thirsty,  _ chugging it down until you were coughing, and the hand that held you reached up to cup your jaw, imploring you to swallow. 

When the thermos left your lips, you leaned back against your heavily armored partner, letting his beskar hold you up. You were tired of the appetizer that was his fingers, and your swollen belly hungered for the real deal. You needed  _ him. _ “Dindin… please…  _ please  _ I want your  _ cock!”  _ The body behind you couldn’t go any stiffer, and you felt his clothed erection rub against the curve of your ass. “I know you’re hard, fuck me, please?”

“Not til you’ve done  _ as you're  _ **_told._ ** _ ”  _ His rasping voice was edged with heavy breaths, whether from the effort of claiming your clutch or trying not to cum in his pants you couldn’t be sure, but it sounded fucking hot as hell either way. Plated arms wrapped around you again, and you were pulled backwards into his lap with your knees thrown over his legs. He prodded your belly, trying to get a count of how many more orgasms he was going to give you. “Four… maybe five…”

Din went for your clit, spinning tight,  _ vicious  _ circles around the engorged nub and making you scream. “ _ D-D-Din!!! Oh yeees! F-fuck me! Please p-please  _ I-I want  _ you  _ in me!” He only hummed against you, rubbing his groin up against your ass to tease you while you came again. He stuffed an ungloved hand up your shirt to find your breasts, tugging and pinching at the sensitive buds until he could feel you shaking in his grasp and pleading for his thick, girthy cock to plow into you and scramble your guts even more than they already were. 

For you he was taking charge of the situation, being the anchor  _ you  _ needed to get through this, but behind his faceless armor he was trying not to lose his goddamn  _ mind  _ at the sight of you. Where you sat on him he could grind himself against your soft thighs, and even through the layers of duraweave he could easily imagine himself sliding his length through your slick heat, drenching himself in your cum.  _ Filling that belly.  _ “Come for me again,  _ cyar’ika.”  _ He had to distract himself from his perverted thoughts, though that was becoming an impossible  _ chore.  _ Here you were in his arms, looking like some kind of glowing  _ goddess  _ with your womb as heavy as it was, and he cursed the Universe for giving him exactly what he’d wished for. 

Damnation flowed through his modulator at the sound of your begging. “Is that right,  _ cyare?  _ You want me to stuff my cock in this soaked pussy of yours? You’re gonna have to  _ earn it.”  _ He was conflicted about talking to you in such a way, but something about the way he was speaking to you made your muscles  _ clench  _ around his fingers while you moaned against his armor. “You like it when I f-fuck you like this? I know you love these hands,  _ cyar’ika,  _ but if you want me to give you my  _ cock  _ you’re gonna have to  _ come!  _ Come so I can  _ fuck  _ that beatiful belly of yours  _ full! _ ”

Maybe he was talking to himself more than you, but you  _ whined  _ in his arms nonetheless as your walls squeezed and flooded. Another hot wave of slick coated his wrist, and he tossed the seedpod away, diving right back in for the next. His strong palm kneaded at your tummy, taking another count,  _ two, maybe three more.  _ He knew he should still be worried, terrified even, but  _ damn it  _ if he wasn’t harder than beskar. His cock was straining against the inside of his pant leg, desperate to grant his own desires. 

“D-Din… w-wait…” He almost didn’t hear you, the thunder of his heartbeat roaring as loud as it was in his helmet, but your wobby arm came back around and patted his leg. “Th-thermos…” The canister was at your lips in a heartbeat, but you pushed it away. “C… Catch…”

_ Oh!  _ The broth was poured out into the massive puddle under you, whatever, might as well add  _ soup  _ to the mix. He prodded your guts once more, palpating the hard lumps that still sat inside you,  _ two left?  _ “ _ Cyare,  _ that’s it, almost done. Come on, come all over my fucking fingers so I can b-bury my cock in you where it  **_belongs!_ ** _ ”  _ You cried into the armor, heat searing from where he was pressed against you to your fluttering muscles to bare down on his fingers with your impending final climax. Dark, sultry praises rasped out of his modulator, so close to your ear you could feel the heat of his breath. “That’s it,  _ ner riduur,  _ one more and you can have my  _ cock.  _ One more and I'll stuff you with my own seed. You want that? Come for me so I can fill you up and  _ breed you  _ like I know you want me to! _ ” _

You nodded against him, making some kind of affirmation noise, but the last pod would be the toughest to pull, and he need to make you cum your fucking brains out if he was going to get it. He stopped his thrusts to tease at your stretched walls, rubbing his calloused fingertips against your slicked core. “What was that,  _ riddur’ika?  _ I can’t  _ hear  _ you.”

“Y-yes Din,  _ please…”  _ You were  _ breathless,  _ your words dryer than a desert as they scratched their way past your chapped lips. He laughed darkly against you, reminding you that you should probably stop teaching him new tricks.

“Yes  _ what?” _

“Breed me! Din please you big  _ fucking jerk  _ pump me full! I wanna be full of  _ you! _ ”

The cold metal of the thermos was pressed to your folds, making you cry out from the sting of it, but a hot fingertip groped at your clit, spinning one last mindblowing orgasm out of you that nearly rendered you unconscious. The metallic  _ plonk  _ that came from between your legs told you the pod had been captured, hopefully with enough of the nectar to keep it from drying out.  _ Hunting is stupid.  _ Din’s dry hand dug into the flesh of your stomach, searching for any more of the bullshit you had been filled with.

“ _ There.  _ Are you ok,  _ cyar’ika?”  _ Something like a nod wobbled your head, though the darkness coming in around the edges of your eyes told you that might be a lie. “You did so well! It’s all over now, let’s get you back up to the-  _ cyar’ika  _ stay with me!” Limply you laid against him, ignoring his exhausted pleas to slump against the rock hard tent pushing against your ass, trying to get him to make good on his word. You’d never been so spent in your life, as if you’d squirted out your very  _ soul.  _ Blinking your eyes open, you hazily saw the tilted visor of your oathsworn and shot him a lecherous grin.

“You gonna fuck me now like you said you would?”

Mando was rarely as grateful for his armor as he was right now, the cold, emotionless beskar hiding his sweat soaked face and lust-drunk eyes. The way you were watching his visor made him think you could  _ hear  _ the cogwheels in his head spinning out of control.  _ Yes, yes a thousand times yes! Beautiful creature of the stars, more wondrous than any constellation. Her cunt is so perfect, so warm and wet and beautiful and literally gushing with her arousal, just begging for me to fill it. To fill  _ **_her,_ ** _ Her womb is open, ready and waiting for my seed to be planted, a fertile haven for my younglings. They’ll be so strong, born with daggers in their teeth and songs in their hearts. I want to see her filled. I  _ **_need_ ** _ to! _

“ _ No. _ ” His reply barked dryly through his modulator, chewing on the sound of his denial. _ “ _ We need to get out of here  _ right now  _ in case that fucking thing decides it wants to go for round two. _ ”  _ The arms that held you together wrapped around your back and under your knees, lifting you gently away from the mess. Weakly you held onto his neck, barely aware of the reef as it passed you by. Staring up at him through tired, tear-washed lashes you were filled with warmth, though not the heat you had felt from the hydra’s nectar. Better than that. Still, though the pleasant sensation was thrumming in your heart  _ and  _ your cunt, you were a bit peeved that he wasn’t going to give you what you’d begged for.

“You  _ suck” _

“I know.” The back of his mind  _ roared  _ with desire from hearing you literally  _ beg  _ for him to fuck you full, making his cock throb painfully against his duraweave.  _ Keep it together, Djarin.  _ Stars  _ above  _ he didn’t want to, he wanted to make good on the filthy promises he had poured over you, but there was no telling what else was lurking in the reef. He had to get you to safety, get you to the ship, and maybe  _ then  _ he could indulge himself. Mark you as his territory from the  _ inside.  _ Shaky fingers dug up under the edge of his helmet, and the feel of your skin against his face made him halt. “What is it,  _ ner cyare’se?” _

_ “ _ You’re… you’re a good man. And a good  _ dad. _ ” The Mandalorian froze  _ solid  _ at that one, cocking his visor at you sharply. A new pull made itself known in his chest, something tugging on his  _ heartstrings.  _ Your eyes were closed, having long since given up the ghost as you started to fade away, and it took massive effort for you to drag them back open to see him. “Even if you do  _ fucking suck  _ s’metimes. You take good care’a me, ‘n Beans too, we’re v’ry lucky to have you.” Your words slurred, and you tried to lick your lips to get them to cooperate, but only found more of the ambrosia stuck to your face. You wouldn’t be cognizant much longer. “Thank you, Din.”

His name being spoken by you was more addictive than any spice, and paired with the praise you were whispering against his metal he nearly melted right down to the ground with you. That was all he  _ ever  _ wanted to be. A good man, a good husband, a good  _ buir.  _ Honeyglow flooded his bones, soft and warm and gentle, the polar opposite of the beskar he was covered in. He felt you curl a lock of his hair around in your fingers, the gentle tug on his scalp making him rumble. The life of a hunter was  _ fucked up,  _ to be sure, but as long as he had you and his son, it was bearable.

You kissed at the chest plate you were pressed to, the one that hid the embodiment of your vows safely next to his heart. He pressed his helmet to your brow, and the way you hummed against him in his arms made him want to  _ run back _ to the  _ Crest  _ where you could have some privacy and peel his armor away, give you what you had so desperately begged him for. Maybe it was the way you were laying so limply against his cuirass, but you seemed so small to him in that moment, like without him wrapped around your body you would dissipate on the volcanic breeze like the pods had.  _ Protect her. _

“You’re… welcome.”

Your fucked-out face nuzzled against him, and he couldn’t help but hug you even tighter, making the scent of you coast up under the edge of his armor. It was different, fragrant and _succulent_ though it was probably the juice that still clung to your legs and face. The scent of _you_ was still there, just enhanced by the aroma, made _stronger._ He took a deep breath of you before continuing through the reef, almost tripping over a low coral when he wavered. _Wavered? Why am I wavering?_

The sound of a deep,  _ indulgent  _ inhale caught your ears, and you flickered an eye open to see him burrowing the front of his helmet in the fabric covering your breasts. Against you his chest ballooned fully, holding the scent of you in his lungs until it stuttered through his modulator with a curse. You giggled weakly, “Smells good, don’t it?” A low grumble made the plates against you vibrate, telling you the siren scent of the anemone was seeping into his brain. “If you think it  _ smells  _ good you should see how good it  _ tastes! _ Try some n’ then get’cher self some  _ sloppy seconds _ , I know you wanna~”

“No! The last thing we need is for  _ me  _ to get caught up in whatever the hell pumped you full of…  _ quarries.”  _ The imagery of  _ that  _ made you chuckle, silly, stupid laughs that bounced off his armor. He was practically  _ jogging  _ now, though you could feel him stumble through the stoney gravel every once in a while as the perfume of the anemone grove started to sink into his synapses. “We’re almost out of here, just a little further…”

“Bah, alright party pooper. I’ll getcha when we get back aboard.”

“Sure, let’s go with that.”

You curled against him, feeling his arms go somehow even tighter. The living fortress that was your Mandalorian carried you with declining ease through the reef, and you could tell from the engine purring away under his armor that he was not nearly as composed as he sounded.  _ One more poke, for good measure.  _ “I love you, Din.”

“And I you, _cyare.”_ His response came out a little cold, but only because he was desperately trying not to melt away into the same puddle of goo you had been turned into. Again you whispered his name, gliding through his ears like a song, and his heart ached to kiss you, to taste the flesh that hugged his Creed-sworn secret so well. He hadn’t heard it in so long before you came, and though his old _alor_ knew it, it was forbidden, meaningless. But coming from you it was _powerful,_ strong enough to bring him to his knees if they weren’t so busy wading through hell and highwater.

Vaguely you were aware of your egress, though most of it flickered in and out of your lust-lost mind. The warmth of the cavern fell away to be replaced with the cold, rushing air of the tunnel as you rocketed back up to the basin. Maybe you were dreaming of the sound of boots crunching through snow, or the soft gibbering of the founding, you couldn’t be sure, but it was pleasant nonetheless. You heard  _ words  _ being spoken from time to time as well, all of them muddied and faint. Maybe they were Basic, maybe Mando’a, but all of them sounded like they  _ cared.  _ Like every syllable and intonation humming through the iron on your cheek was spoken for you alone.

Your Mandalorian carried you diligently back to your broken chariot, trying his best to make small talk with the foundling as he floated along behind. The child seemed worried at the state of his adopted parents, And Din rattled off every reassurance that he could think of, but his legs were starting to weaken from the scent of the nectar so close to his helmet. He marched on through the glacial basin almost on autopilot until the  _ Razor  _ came into view. Warm air sent flurries of snow around him and his crew as the ramp fell open, and blearily he made his way inside. 

He had to do something about the state of the two of you, but his knees locked and froze him to the spot, demanding he take a moment to breathe. There it was again, the fruity, summery scent of you that made his dick throb.  _ Damn it all.  _ Shaky steps hauled him through the cabin, and he laid you down on the little cot you both shared. He needed to get your soaked clothes off, but in order to do that he would have to get out of his own armor first. He shrugged off the helmet, though the metal had been protecting him from the temptation of you more than he realized, and the heat that gooped its way through his body from the  _ pungency  _ of your scent nearly threw him to the floor. 

Din punched the buttons on his vambrace, closing up the foundling for the night whether he was ready for bed or not.  _ Sorry kid.  _ He peeled his armor away, setting the beskar aside and tossing the soaked fabric into the fresher. Next came your own clothes, and at first he worried he might wake you. Stars knew you needed the rest, but you made no indication that you even knew he was there. 

Your limbs flopped like jelly while he tore off your clothes to be chucked into the fresher along with his until you were beautifully naked. Spread like a feast before him on the narrow bed, he couldn’t help but lick his lips. Little shimmers here and there told him that you were still coated in the hydra’s goo, and his first thought was to grab a washcloth to clean you up, but you stretched your lovely arms and made the splashes of color  _ dance  _ like melted candy on your skin, making his mouth water at the sight and giving him a much better idea.  _ Maybe just… just a taste. _

* * *

The faint whirring of the  _ Crests  _ innards caught your attention, and you came back to consciousness with agonizing slowness. You were laying on your bedroll, tucked safely away in the durasteel depths of your ship, though you weren’t sure if it was dark or if you still had your eyes closed. Warm fog settled in your head and wafted through your bones, a mindless comfort that left you blissfully numb. It could have been whatever the hydra had left in you, or more likely, it was whatever activity was going on below your waist. Your breath hitched in your throat, surprising you, but not as surprising as the  _ stars  _ that flashed behind your eyes. “ _ Ah~!” _

From between your legs a lusty groan shot right up your cunt and made you fist your hands in the plush fabric underneath you while you came.  _ How is there anything left!?  _ A broad tongue lapped at your clit, slurping away at the remnants of the nectar that coated your folds. The smooth muscle dragged itself through your slit, drinking in everything you were giving before sliding right back to that sensitive little bud to tease circles around it. 

“ _ Mesh’la..  _ I’m.. I’m sorry, I c-couldn’t help it, you  _ taste so good~”  _ The Mandalorian’s baritone rocked you to your core, and another flick of his tongue had you coming all over his face again. “P-please…  _ forgive me.” _

“F-f-forgive? Bahh… I told ya it was  _ good _ , now get lickin’, bucket boy.” You tangled a hand in his curls, pushing him back down to enjoy his just desserts. His tongue fucked into you with reckless abandon, hungry and desperate for the taste of you. He dug his arms under your thighs and forced your mound as tightly up against his face as he could, and you heard him  _ gasp  _ for air between gulps. Exhaustion and pleasure tugged your eyes back closed, and you teetered in and out of consciousness, being brought back to the realm of the living with each fresh wave of ecstasy. Something  _ rhythmic  _ moved against your leg, the muscles in his shoulder thrumming away at something well out of sight.  _ Is he jerking off?  _

In his hand he was going to town on his aching shaft, using the glittering goo that still flowed readily from your gloriously wet pussy to coat himself in. The coral’s effect had been burrowing into his brain stem from the moment he could smell it, calling to him like some kind of  _ siren; _ but finally getting to  _ taste  _ it was an otherworldly experience. You had been through  _ enough  _ for one hunt, and though he craved release like a sex crazed animal he would happily content himself with just getting a  _ taste  _ of the ambrosial sweetness while you relaxed _.  _

It hadn’t taken him long to coax the rainbow juices from your stretched folds, and even less time to slick himself with it. For a brief moment he thought he would just lap enough from your wellspring to get himself off, but soon he found himself unable to tear his face away from your delicious cunt, slurping away at the honeyed slick until he was nearly drowning in it. He dragged the colorful fluid around the tip of his cock, almost creaming himself right then and there with the warm tingly sensation that dribbled down his length. 

Stars above you were  _ juicy,  _ wet and engorged against his frenzied tongue, though the rest of your body was boneless against him. He didn’t mind holding your legs up on his shoulders while he lovingly cleaned the nectar from the core of your body, in fact he was  _ delighted  _ to be of service _.  _ Lost in his indulgences he almost didn’t feel you tug on his hair, bringing his eyes up to meet your own. 

“You… you can… in me… please... “ Nothing remained of your shattered mind, but you almost felt bad that he was trying to take care of himself when you were right there, ready and waiting. He shook his head against your leaking slit, dragging himself up for air to answer you, making the hazy emergency lights of the cabin sparkle in the wetness that covered his mouth and chin.

“I shouldn’t, you need to… to rest… ”

“Should’a thought about  _ that  _ before you started tonguin' me. Now get up here and  _ fuck me  _ like you said you would! _ ”  _

You were starting to wonder if he  _ liked  _ being bossed around, because he growled against your core and yanked you back towards him, burying himself balls deep in one swift thrust. His wet mouth crashed against your own, giving you a taste of your own medicine.  _ Fuck he wasn’t kidding, that’s delcious!  _ He thrust into you with ragged strokes, messy and out of time. Muscular arms wrapped around your body, flooding your senses with the combined scent of him and the intoxicating perfume of the sunken grove. 

Din hugged you close to his sweaty chest, digging fingers into the back of your head and the swell of your ass so he could rocket into your wonderous coils, punching the blunt tip of his cock against your tired cervix. His kisses were frantic but messy, all tongue and teeth and heated breaths as if you could do any better. You were almost surprised that you could feel him as stretched out as you were, but the spear of a Mandalorian was nothing to be scoffed at. The girthy thing rutted against your walls, bottoming out with every desperate thrust. 

“Not… gonna… last… much... “ He choked on his own words, making a half dozen more ragged thrusts before blasting you full of his cum, painting your walls with his seed. The ring of muscle fluttered against his weeping tip, almost like a  _ tongue  _ that was greedily sucking his cum into your depths.  _ That’s the only seeds she should be filled with,  _ he thought blearily,  **_my_ ** _ seed.  _ His hips twitched against you, giving a few more staggered thrusts to milk himself to completion in your forgiving heat. 

Din was  _ panting,  _ driven nearly to exhaustion by the effort of making good on his promises to fuck you senseless. Under him your own breath was stuttered, your chest crushed by his weight. He coiled his arms around you and rolled you both sideways, using the last of his strength to tuck you up under his arm and lay your head on his chest. You murmured something fondly against him as he lazily threaded his fingers through your hair, brushing it out of your face as best he could, but the soft breathing against his skin told him you probably didn’t notice. Soft kisses danced over your face, more for his enjoyment than your own, a fact made apparent by the cutest little snore in his ears.  _ Sleep well, my love. And thank you. For everything. _

He could lay there forever, with the weight of you on his chest and the hot slick sliding down his thighs, if he died right then and there he would die a  _ very  _ happy man. His fingers tried valiantly to run themselves down the curve of your spine, but there was no energy left in his body to power them, and he let them rest in the dip of your hips. Your breaths came slowly, a gentle rise and fall that heated his skin where you were pressed tightly against the crook of his neck. Din kissed your forehead again before tangling his limbs around you and burying his nose in your hair.  _ Tomorrow we can get the exterior fixed, the inside is warm enough for now.  _

A gentle smile tugged at the edges of his lips, making his whiskers catch your hair.  _ And maybe if it’s too cold for the foundling, she’ll keep him in her shirt again.  _ Din couldn’t help but hum at the thought, you all cute and round, even if it was only temporary. By marriage you were a  _ buir  _ to his foundling _ ,  _ as truly as you would be if you had sworn the Creed, but the thought of you carrying his own flesh-and-blood  _ ad’ika  _ was the guiltiest pleasure he could imagine. Now that he  _ knew  _ what you would look like all full and heavy he could more easily indulge those devious thoughts. It was probably wrong to recall the image of you laying on that vibrant nest of tentacles, glowing and radiant and  _ full. And in need. Needing me to care for her. _

He wouldn’t admit it, and he knew you were tough enough to take care of yourself as long as you didn’t go sliding down any mysterious chasms, but he  _ loved  _ being  _ needed  _ by you _.  _ He loved that the name you had screamed for in that sunken grove was  _ his,  _ that you  _ needed him  _ to rescue you,  _ needed him  _ to pull the pods from your belly.  _ Needed him to breed you.  _ He could hear you in his mind again, you desperately  _ begging  _ him to fill your womb with his warriors, but you had only done so while drunk on the hydra’s wine.  _ Was there any truth to it?  _ Probably not, he’d practically  _ demanded  _ that you beg for it.

_ But what if there was? _

Tired fingers pulled you impossibly closer to him, as if to invite you to sleep in his ribcage, curled up next to his heart. You grumbled in your sleep, murmuring something about tater tots before letting loose a beastly  _ snore.  _ The Mandalorian rolled his eyes,  _ that’s her, that’s my mesh’la, my cyare, my riduur. _

_ And maybe, when the time is right, when the bounties have been collected and the universe doesn’t seem so hostile. Maybe when we find another convert, or even just start one of our own. Someday, maybe...  _

_ Maybe I can call her my buir’ika as well. _

  
  
  



End file.
